


Have you seen the First Lady?

by donnawanderedoff



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Abby Griffin as the First Lady of the United States, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Drama, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Humor, Marcus Kane is a journalist, Other, Reference to alcohol abuse, Slow Burn, mention of infertility
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-06-16 05:17:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 64,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15429825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donnawanderedoff/pseuds/donnawanderedoff
Summary: The young widow of the 43rd President of the United States, Abigail Walters Griffin, thought she was finally free from her duties after the unfortunate death of her husband. But circumstances, helped by a meddling father and an eager new President, have forced her back in the role of First Lady. Tired of following the rules, Abigail forms a plan to escape.Ten months later she has made her escape and as the entire Secret Service is looking for her, she meets an arrogant journalist and two small children in need of a family. Together they form an unlikely group and tensions inevitably get high as they cross America.





	1. First Lady no more

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is inspired by the book First Lady by Susan Elizabeth Philips. I have changed certain things and modified some characters to fit those of The 1oo better. I remember buying the book eight years ago in Bath and I have lost track of the number of times I've reread it. It's a great mix of angst, drama, humor with of course room for love (both parental and romantic). 
> 
> Updates will be once a month (at least that's my current prediction). Hope you'll enjoy!

Abigail _Abby_ Walters Griffin had an itchy nose. Aside from that, it was an elegant nose. Perfectly shaped, with just a hint of freckles. A French braid contained her long, almost reaching her lower back, light brown hair. Hair she preferably would have cut a few inches shorter years ago, but her father had forbidden it. Later Jake – her dear husband – had confessed ever so softly that he preferred it longer too. So here she was, years later with a hairstyle she didn’t particularly like, wearing a figure hugging yet sophisticated black dress and a pair of too high pumps while dealing with an itchy nose she couldn’t scratch because millions of people all over the world were watching her on their televisions, on their phones, their laptops and tablets.     

Burying your husband sure took the fun out of your day.

She shuddered and bit her inner lip – the slight sting helped to swallow down the hysteria that she felt creeping up – which had been burning inside of her ever since she got word of her husband’s death. Taking a calming breath, she forced herself to focus on her feet.

Right – left – right – left - right - left.

If she could concentrate on the simple task of _moving,_ perhaps then she would be able to forget that there were six men walking in front of her. Six men who were carrying a coffin containing the body of the President of the United States and her husband – the _former_ President her mind interjected, causing her throat to constrict.

But Abby couldn’t forget.

Not when the men walking on each side of her moved closer. The newly inaugurated President and Jake’s former Vice President – Thelonious Jaha  – gripped her right arm while her father clasped her left elbow. Behind her, there were three bodyguards ensuring her safety. Or so her father had claimed. But she knew that their presence had more to do with the man walking to her right. Not that she minded her father’s lie. She did mind however, how close they all were. They were all too close, invading her personal space and it felt like she was suffocating. As if there wasn’t enough oxygen and she would never be able to breathe properly and freely again, even though they were still outdoors.

“Head up Abigail,” her father lowly hissed from her side, giving her elbow a small pinch and she hated how she immediately did as she was told. Her eyes fell onto the coffin and she bit back another scream at the sight. Instead, she turned her focus to the flowers laying on top. They were lilies and Abby instinctively knew that after today, she never wanted to see another lily ever again.

From the corner of her eyes, she could see reporters talking into cameras and photographers taking numerous pictures. She wondered if they would all portray her a s a fragile and grief stricken widow since several papers had already been doing just that. It’s funny how they all had collectively forgotten that  - before all this, before she got roped up again in her father’s desire to reach the top of American politics one way or another, before the creation of First Lady Abigail Walters Griffin - she had been a doctor working for the Red Cross. She has seen her fair share of death and destruction and yet journalists took one look at her small frame and deemed her to be fragile. Or perhaps they wouldn’t go down that particular route but instead read something more in the way the President was hanging onto her arm. That thought made her shudder. Her husband wasn’t even buried and now –

_No. Don’t think about that. Don’t think about Jake lying in the coffin._

She’d think about her itchy nose, about how her black pumps were hurting her feet. She’d think about the fact she hadn’t been able to eat anything ever since she had found out about Jake’s death in the early morning three days ago. She’d think about the numbness that had enveloped her. Or how much her cheeks hurt from smiling and thanking people for coming to the funeral. How her hand was still cramped from signing too many cards. Or how sick she was from hearing news anchors saying the same sentences over and over; _President Jacob Tobias Griffin was taken from us too soon. Thoughts and prayers are with his wife and family._

As if thoughts and prayers would or could ever help.

And then as Abby took her first step into the cathedral, it hit her.

She was no longer the First Lady of the United States. She was free.

* * *

As Abby rose from her seat, the mask she’d been carefully carrying all day slipped and a look of utter bewilderment appeared on her face. Her freedom was slipping from between her fingers  mere hours after she gained it and the only spark of hope she had remaining was close to being extinguished.

“You can’t be serious?”

Her exclamation is met by identical serious looks from the two other inhabitants in the room. A room she once had loved to enter and surprise Jake between meetings, a room in which she felt a thrill go through her each time she observed him sitting behind the desk, looking every part of the President that he truly was. Now it felt cold and claustrophobic.

“Of course we’re serious Abigail. This isn’t a time for jokes. Nor is it a subject that should ever be joked about,” her father chided. “You’re the ideal link between the Griffin and Jaha administration. You staying on as the First Lady would be a symbol of stability and continuity. The country needs you.”

“You mean the party needs me.”

“This isn’t about the re-election in three years.”

That was a lie and they all knew it. Jake had been charismatic and made people feel at ease, he won the votes of the majority of the American people with a broad smile, while Thelonious was everything her husband was not. Which meant that the two of them made an excellent and almost unbeatable team, but whereas Jake could still have gotten enough votes without Thelonious as his VP, the same couldn’t be said for the latter if the positions had been reversed. The current President would need every help he could get if he ever wanted to get re-elected.  

Hoping that Thelonious might clarify and put her mind at ease, she turned her attention towards him, but Abby felt her final spark of hope die when he simply regarded her with his fingers clasped together, sitting in the chair that had been Jake’s mere days ago and should have been Jake’s for at least three more years.

“As the First Lady under my term you’ll be able to keep your old office and the same staff. I’ll do everything in my power to make you as comfortable as I can. How about you take a month or two off, recuperate and then we’ll ease you back into your schedule. We can start with the G-8 summit in Berlin which was already on your schedule.”

 _Yes because I was supposed to go with my husband._ She wanted to scream at the both of them.

Which is a detail Thelonious seemed to realise - albeit too late, because he grimaced before giving her a small nod.

Not that it mattered to her.

Not when it felt as if all the air in the office seemed to be seeping away and the space felt both familiar yet so foreign.

From the second she had set foot into the Oval Office after the funeral, Abby had immediately noticed that her and Jake’s wedding picture had been removed and replaced with a picture of Thelonious’ deceased wife and his son. The knowledge that while she had been burying her husband his staff had been busy removing every evidence and reminder that Jake had ever been the President made her stomach churn.

_How dare they? How dare they pretend that the past eleven months hadn’t happened?_

She clenched her hands and felt how her nails were digging into her skin.

“Abigail look, I realise that this has been a difficult time and I don’t want to appear insensitive to your grief by broaching this subject, but I have no choice,” he calmly explained and it took Abby all of her years of being groomed to live in the public eye and to control her emotions that she didn’t laugh straight in the President of the United States’ face.

But the absolute worst part of it all was that she perfectly understood why Thelonious brought it up - at least from a political point of view. For you see, it was the first time since the death of Edith Wilson eighteen months after Woodrow Wilson’s inauguration, that the United States of America had no First Lady.

“I can’t think of anybody else more capable of handling the job than you. Or suitable,” he finished.

“You want me to continue being the First Lady?” She murmured, needing to be absolutely certain that this was what they were trying to tell her while at the same time feeling stunned that this conversation was even taking place.

“For now. A mourning period  of a year should suffice and then we can talk about  the engagement and eventual marriage,” her father announced as he rose from his chair.

_Engagement? Marriage?_

Eight hours ago Abby would have said that the worst thing she ever went through was burying her husband. But now? Now this conversation was most definitely number one. She wanted to scream. She wanted to scream and throw things - _break_ things.

How could they ask that of her?

And today of all days. Couldn’t they see that she was still wearing her funeral clothes? That the man she thought she’d spent the rest of her life with, she’d have children with, had been put into the ground mere hours ago?

“I couldn’t possibly-” she started to reply, but her father silenced her with a single raise of his hand.

“Abigail, as Thelonious has already mentioned, we both know that this has been a difficult day, but I know that after some sleep you’ll see things more clearly,”  he stated, the condescending tone in his voice all too evident to her and she _hated_ it.

“Difficult? In less than a week I not only lost  and buried the man I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with, but I also stood by when the new President was sworn in, all the while smiling and projecting this image of me being in control of my emotions. So yes, you could say that things have been _difficult,”_ she spat out, her calm façade finally breaking.

Silence filled the room. Both men looked taken rather aback by her reply. This has been the first time in _years_ since Abby had raised her voice - nevermind talked back - to her father.

“I won’t do this. You can’t possibly ask me to do this. I want my life back. I _earned_ that at least.”

“We’re not _asking_ you,” her father stated with his hands clasped behind his back, clearly having recovered from her outburst seconds ago. “And Abigail, you have no children to raise so what would you possibly do with all that free time? Go back to playing doctor? You’re not a selfish person who would abandon her responsibility, her _duty_ towards the American people.”

“Being a doctor isn’t a role you can play father.”

Unlike being a Senator, Abby thought although she knew better than to utter _that_ statement.

“And would you honestly force me to remarry? Your only daughter? Besides how would that look to the people? According to the American public Jacob and I had the perfect marriage. An image you so carefully created.”

And also a _lie,_ she thought with a hint of bitterness and pain.

”And now I’ll not only continue my duties as the First Lady but also get engaged and eventually marry his former VP? You’d lose the support of a large demographic of the American people,”Abby pressed on, realising that she’s currently grasping at straws but she also knew how important things like image and reputation are to her father.

“We have obviously talked about that and analysed the potential losses. That’s why we’ll need to create a convincing story. The fact that you’ll continue being the First Lady even without Jacob will gain us support and sympathy votes. It will be an immense boost for your popularity and people already adore you. As for yours and Thelonious’ eventual engagement we can say  that the grief you both felt about Jacob brought you two together,” her father informed, sounding so matter of factly he could be describing the weather.

Every word that came out of her father’s mouth  made her stomach churn, but Abby couldn’t help but focus on the first part of the sentence.

“What do you mean that you two have talked about this? When would you two have possibly found the time?” She asked, already knowing that she won’t like his answer.

“During the emergency meeting on Tuesday.”

Tuesday! That meant -

“Father, are you telling me that on the day that Jake got killed, you two already discussed how you would simply _hand_ me over to my next husband?” She questioned, her voice void of any emotion, but she could feel the skin of her palm where her nails had been digging into break.

“Abigail, please don’t be so dramatic,” he countered, his stance radiating annoyance but she could spot a flicker of uneasiness in his eyes, as if some _small_ part of him, the almost non existing part that was capable of feeling fatherly love, a part which never surpassed the Senator part, realised that he’d gone too far.  Years of being trained in how to read other people’s body language had inadvertently also meant that she could read her father.  

“Are you really surprised that I’m dismayed about this? Not once in this entire conversation - no, not once since Jake’s death, have you asked how I felt. Or what I wanted. Instead you announce that I’m to be engaged in about a year.”

“Abi-” her father started to say, a reprimand surely ready on the tip of his tongue but she cut him off.

“What’s your take on all of this Thelonious? You’ve gone oddly quiet,” she addressed the President who had been silently observing father and daughter argue. Which was typical of him. Even now, he couldn’t help but act like a politician.

“We have to think about what’s best for the American people Abiga- Abby.”

The reply was uttered softly but firmly and she could feel bile rising in her throat when he called her _Abby._

 _You have no right to call me Abby._ She wanted to cry out. _Not when in a few months – if it’s up to you and my father - you’ll be marrying your former best friend’s widow. You didn’t even wait until Jake had been death for 24 hours before you swooped in and made arrangements._

She was also so sick of hearing that sentence.

What’s best for the American people.

She’d been hearing it all of her life and Abby was utterly fed up with how one little sentence had been dictating the actions she took throughout her life.  

For example at age eight when she donated all of the money she received for her birthday to different charities. The fact that she had cried for hours, curled up in her bed afterwards was of no importance to her father.

Or three years later at age eleven when pictures of her painting a retirement home were plastered all over papers and people’s hearts were soaring because she looked so _cute_ and look at how polite she was and invested in helping a group of people society tended to forget.

And when she was fourteen, she visited several orphanages on a monthly basis, always bringing toys and clothes with her to give away.

Then at sixteen she volunteered at a local soup kitchen all throughout the summer while her friends went on a trip to Paris. Not that she didn’t care about helping people in need, but just _once_ she would have loved to actually _be_ a teenager.

But then again, there was no time to be a kid or a teenager when your last name was Walters. There had been no room for playing, for having fun or failure. Not when your every move was being monitored by not only your father but also the media and the American public.

Even her decision to become a doctor had been analysed and broadcasted towards the public as a _way to use her privileged position to help those less fortunate._  

But now at 34, she was done with following that particular mindset.

“What’s best for the American people? That man not only got assassinated, but we also buried him today,” She proclaimed before moving towards the door, not caring that she called the current President not necessarily unfit for office, but most definitely less competent and less right than his predecessor.

“You’re not leaving Abigail. This conversation is far from finished. You gave up any chance of a private life the day you married Jacob.”

“No father. I was never given the opportunity to have a private life. And you know why? Because I was born the daughter of Senator Michael Walters,” she bit back and once again she had managed to render both men speechless.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to finally take off the clothes I wore while _burying_ my husband, take a bath and have a drink. I’m done discussing this,” she stated, her tone of voice clearly indicating that the conversation was over.

Her father blinked once before giving her a tight smile. “Of course dear, we can finish making arrangements tomorrow,” he conceded.

He seemed to realise that pressing her any further would lead nowhere. She was her father’s daughter after all and stubbornness ran through the family. It was most likely the only thing or characteristic they had in common.

With a final nod, she opened the door and walked out of the Oval Office.

* * *

In the end and just for the sake of her sanity, not to mention her unwillingness to discuss the subject any further, Abby agreed with a mourning period of 1,5 year before a statement would be made, announcing her engagement to Thelonius.

The President ever so _kindly_ offered her four weeks to recuperate and mourn in solitude. Afterwards she’d be coming back to Washington in order to fulfill her duty towards the American people by being Abigail Walters Griffin, the First Lady of the United States. Or in two years, Abigail Walters Griffin Jaha.

Just thinking about adding Jaha to her name made her shudder.

But what neither her father nor the President knew, was that Abby had absolutely no intention of getting engaged to Thelonius nevermind marry him. She didn’t know how she was going to pull it off just yet, but she still had seventeen months to figure out a plan.

That should give her plenty of time. After all she has been surrounded by a security detail all her life and it wouldn’t be the first time she would be able to trick them and sneak away.

Nine months into her tenure as First Lady under the Jaha administration had Abby slowly losing hope of ever finding a way to escape. Her father must have realised that she was planning something after she agreed to his plan without any further argument because he added another guy to her security detail. Not to mention the fact that her agenda had been filled with meetings, grand openings and visits. She barely had the time to eat and sleep - and she already had enough difficulties with both - nevermind to come up with an escape plan.

And as if that hadn’t been bad enough, the President - she refused to call him Thelonious, even Jaha sounded too personal - kept consulting her and asking her opinion on different subjects. At first she had been - not exactly flattered, but it felt good to have someone genuinely interested in her opinions again and perhaps asking for her advice was his way of apologising. But it didn’t take long before Abby realised that the President only asked in order to be alone with her in the Oval Office. By spending time together in a way both his and her staff could see, their future engagement wouldn’t come as a complete surprise for those working in the White House. Which was a tactic that had her father written all over it.

It was obvious that the President couldn’t care less about what she had to say. Oh he tried to appear as if he was diligently listening, but Abby could tell from the way he raised his brow or clasped his hands that he didn’t agree with whatever she was saying. Once he had even stopped her and started to correct her _on a medical issue of all things_ in such a condescending manner that she had gotten up from her chair, stating that it was obvious that he wasn’t interested in her _accurate_ medical opinion and if he could excuse her since she had more important things to do.

The President had left her alone for two weeks after that.

But as the one year anniversary of her husband’s death kept coming closer, he redoubled his efforts to charm her, no doubt after some encouragement from her father. Which was highly inappropriate to say the least. Honestly didn’t the man realise how this would come across to their staff? She was still in mourning and yet he kept sending her flowers. Or asking her to lunch or dinner.

On most mornings her chief of Staff, Callie Cartwig, started her morning briefing by either stating that there was card waiting for her from the President or showing her the flowers. The first couple of times Callie had handed her the card but Abby merely gave them back without reading them and asked if they could be thrown out. Now Callie didn’t even mention them, instead she simply shredded them. As for the flowers, those were distributed among the other staffers.

Abby had managed to avoid running into the President for the last couple of days, which wasn’t an easy feat considering the fact that they lived and worked in the same house and even though the White House wasn’t small, not with its six levels and 132 rooms, you were bound to come across each other. And she hated the fact that she had to _hide,_ that she had to reschedule meetings or make excuses as for why she couldn’t have dinner or why it would be better if the President asked his advisors for guidance instead of her. She felt herself turning into a person she barely recognized. When she woke up and glanced at the woman staring back in the mirror, she didn’t see the woman who has travelled to warzones in order to help to sick and injured. Instead she sees a woman who was too pale with large circles under eyes and such a broken look in her eyes that it felt like a punch to the gut every single morning.

How could this have happened?

If there was one thing Abby Walters Griffin wasn’t, it was a coward. All through her life she had been able to stand up for herself and others. Except when it came to her father. She never did learn how to say _no_ to him. Even after all this time, and after all the things she had done for her father, she still wanted to please him, to make him proud.

But at what cost?

She was slowly losing herself, even becoming a shadow of her former self. And all because she hadn’t been strong enough to say _no._ But enough was enough. She refused to continue like this.

All she wanted was to be free. To be able to visits places, cities without being surrounded by a security detail, without being stared at or photographed. To smile because she felt like it, not because she had to. To have the freedom to speak her mind, to make mistakes, to take the time to think about what she really wanted to do with her life.

If you had asked eight-year old Abby what she wanted to be when she grew up, she would have answered with President of the United States. But as she grew older and realised that the only political aspirations her father had for her was as a _wife_ and learned more about how politics actually worked - about the lying and backstabbing, she became less interested. Instead she began to focus on medicine, which resulted in her getting accepted at Johns Hopkins’ and graduating _summa cum laude._ And she had been happy as a doctor, she loved helping people, but then she had met Congressman Jacob Tobias Griffin from Virginia - thanks to her meddling father, but for once she hadn’t mind his schemes - and got lured back into the political world. Even more so after he’d won the presidency.  And even though Jake had regularly asked for her guidance, her role still remained limited.

But now? How was she supposed to disappear? How could the most recognized woman of the United States leave? It’s not like she could resign.

Then one morning as she’d been walking towards her office, a group of fifth graders had started their tour. And then it hit her. That’s how she could sneak away. The White House had tours on a regular basis. Not only schoolchildren, but also tourists or societies. And as the First Lady she knew where the control posts were, where the cameras were or where the extra security was.

Now that she had figured out the how, Abby already felt a little bit lighter. Her next step was figuring out how she could blend in with a group and sneak out of the White House. She couldn’t exactly walk out looking like herself. But where was she going to find the clothes she needed in order to disguise herself? And without arousing suspicion from her staff or even worse the President or her father. It’s not like she could order a wig from the internet and have it delivered.

Without even realising it, Callie gave her the perfect idea three days later. Her chief of Staff had been wearing a new pantsuit and Abby had complimented her on it. Callie had then informed her that she had ordered it from a catalogue and if she wanted she’d bring it and perhaps some other ones with her the following day. A suggestion Abby had eagerly accepted. Now she could order everything she needed from different catalogues and have it delivered to the White House. All she had to do with add the initial A. to Callie’s name so that the woman knew that the order was for Abby.

Now all she had to do was order whatever she needed and wait until everything got delivered.

One month and five packages later and her plan was all set.

* * *

On Thursday the 7th of October at 9.15 am, an elderly woman slipped into a tour group which was making its way through the rooms on the State floor. She was dressed very plainly, wearing a pair of beige polyester slacks, some white trainers, a white polo shirt and a dark blue rain jacket. Her hair was grey with a dark blue sports visor on top. The entire outfit was completed with a dark fanny pack. The woman was staring intently at her guidebook, her eyes peeking from behind slightly tinted glasses. If you looked close enough you could see a perfectly shaped nose with just a hint of freckles.

As Abby followed the rest of the group she barely resisted the urge to tug on her wig, which was extremely itchy. Her heart was pounding and she could feel herself starting to sweat. She couldn’t believe that this was actually happening. Or that she made it this far. Surely somebody would see through her disguise? Or perhaps one of the other members of the group would take one glance at her and grow suspicious, especially since she had appeared not long after they had passed the bathrooms.

Trying to keep her heartbeat under control she continued to trail behind, pretending to be listening to the tour guide, who was a member of the Secret Service - a detail only those working at the White House knew. When they entered a room with video cameras Abby could feel her fingers getting numb. It took all of her strength not to tremble as she gazed at a portrait of George Washington. Any second now the tour guide would recognize her or the members of the Secret Service in the control room would spot her, alert the tour guide or others and she’d be whisked away and that would be the end of her plan.

Except that moment never came and the group moved into the Cross Hall and from there on out to the north portico. With every step she took, Abby grew more tense. People were excitedly whispering all around her, but all she could do was continue breathing and moving ever so slowly towards the exit. And then for the first time in longer than she could remember she was walking on an American street _without_ being surrounded by a security detail. With trembling hands Abby stored her guide book into her fanny pack, next to the money she had managed to retrieve.

Her tracking device, something every member of the First family received and never left without, was still hidden beneath her pillow in her bedroom. Earlier this morning she had called Callie and stated that she was feeling unwell and that she was going to lie down for a couple of hours. On top of her pillow were two envelopes, each containing a letter. The largest envelope was directed towards the President, offering an explanation for her disappearance. The smaller one was for her Chief of Staff because Abby knew that even though she had asked for not to be disturbed that Callie would in all likeliness be the first one to check up on her. Which is why she had left the second letter. In it was a more accurate and honest reason for why she had left.

As part of her plan, Abby had memorized the route from the White House to the nearest subway station. Just as she rounded a corner, she spotted two police officers coming her way causing her breath to hitch.

Would they recognize her?

Thankfully they simply nodded as they passed her, oblivious to the fact that they just greeted the First Lady of the United States and Abby had to swallow down a nervous giggle.

It took all of her strength not to break out in a run, but that would only draw more attention to her, especially in her current disguise. Soon enough she was standing in front of a fare card machine. Knowing that it would be safer to take several rides on different lines, Abby calculated her fare before inserting the correct amount of money and receiving her card.

The plan was as following; get on the subway towards the train station and then take a train towards Maryland. Once there she was going to go to the nearest used cars dealerships and hopefully she’d find someone willing to sell an elderly woman a car without seeing a driver’s license. The only license she had ever had, has expired years ago and as First Lady she didn’t need to drive anywhere.

Four hours and two car dealerships later and Abby was behind the wheel of a dark brown Chevrolet. The car might have cost more than she had initially anticipated, but in the end she happily paid because now she could leave the state and nobody would ever link this car to Abigail Walters Griffin.

As the miles she put between herself and the White House increased she tried to calm down but she knew that by now her absence would be noticed. The time to make her phone call was here. She had to reassure the President that she hadn’t been kidnapped nor had she written the letter under duress.

She took a right turn at the first convenience store she spotted. After pulling in the parking lot she made her way to a pay phone. With a deep breath she punched in the number of the most private of the Oval Office numbers, knowing that she couldn’t be intercepted.

On the third ring the President answered.

“Yes?”

“It’s Abigail.”

“Oh, thank god. Where are you? Are you alright? Are you safe? What the hell happened?” He whispered, his voice laced with concern and urgency.

“I’m perfectly fine. I’m not injured, nor am I taken against my will. I was speaking the truth in my letter. Nobody made me write those things.”

“John has been pacing every since he got word of your disappearance. He’s worried sick,” the President informed her.

This she had expected. Every member of the President’s family was given a code to use in the event of them being coerced. If she uttered the name _John Cage,_ he’d know she’d been taken against her will.

“This is none of his business.”

“John seems to think otherwise,” he pressed, giving her a second chance.

“Then he’s mistaken,” she stated.

There was a brief silence on the other end and she could just _hear_  the moment the President finally realised that she had left on her own accord. 

“How could you write such lies? Do you have any idea what you’ve done? How you’ve hurt your father?” The president hissed. Gone was his earlier concern, now it was replaced with anger.

Which in response fueled hers.

“Lies? Would you have preferred if I wrote the truth? That I left because you and my father decided my future without even consulting me? That I not only had to continue as the First Lady but also marry you? Perhaps I should have written the truth. Let people know just what you two have done. You can tell my father that I’m finally putting myself first.”

“You’re not going to get away with this Abigail. You can’t simply disappear. You’re the First Lady of the United States. You have an obligation towards the American people. To me,” he countered.  

“And that’s where you’re wrong. I don’t owe you a single thing. You may be the President but lets not forget how that came to be shall we? I didn’t vote for you. I did not choose you. I’m not a member of your staff _Jaha_ , you can’t boss me around.”

“I -” he started again, but she swiftly cut him off, adrenaline flowing through her veins.  

“You should be able to hold the press off by having Callie announce that I have the flu. You’ll hear from me in a couple of days.”

“Wait! Abigail this is dangerous. what if people find out who you are? You’ll need Sec-”

“That’ll be all for now,” she said before hanging up on the President of the United States.

Silence filled the phone booth until a giggle slipped from between her lips. In a matter of seconds her entire body was shaking with laughter.

She had done it. She’d gotten away. There was nobody looking over her shoulder. Nobody telling her where to go or whose hands she had to shake. There was no schedule to stick to. No people to meet, things to sign. Pictures to be taken.

She was free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and/or kudos are much appreciated


	2. From journalist to father?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the kudos and comments! You all made me smile. 
> 
> In this chapter you guys will get to know Marcus Kane as a journalist who due to circumstances ends up being the legal guardian of two kids, the Blake siblings. But let’s just say he’s not particularly happy about that.
> 
> Enjoy!

As Marcus Kane shifted in his chair, he bumped his knee against the edge of the attorney’s desk….for the third time.

_What was it with places like this and their love for highly uncomfortable and too small chairs?_

“You’re listed on both of the birth certificates as the children’s father Mr Kane. By law, that means you’re responsible for them,” the attorney in question, Mr. Shumway informed him.

From the second he had shaken the attorney’s hand, Marcus had taken an immediate dislike to the man. He estimated him to be around the same age as himself namely 37 or perhaps a couple of years older, but rather short and stout. On the tip of his nose were a pair of brown glasses perched but even though they were rather large they couldn’t cover up the sour looking expression which seemed to be permanently stuck on his face. The attorney was wearing a cheap suit, which was also a bit too tight around the waist. His hair was light brown and slicked back with what seemed to be an entire bottle of gel.

“Yes, you’ve mentioned that. But let me repeat myself for the last time: _they’re not mine._ I do not have and I will never have children,” he declared as he leaned forward in his chair, using all of his 5’11” to intimidate the man sitting across from him.

When being confronted with Marcus’ glare, Mr. Shumway flinched before nervously clearing his throat.

“So you’ve stated. But Aurora also appointed you as their legal guardian. And pray tell, why would she do such a thing if you weren’t the father?”

Marcus barely managed to suppress his desire to curse out loud.

_Damn you Aurora. Even now you’re causing trouble and bringing chaos into my life._

He continue to glare. “I have no idea what possessed her to do so, but I respectfully decline.”

The attorney shifted in his seat before clasping his hands together. “That’s not how the law works Mr. Kane. You may claim that they aren’t yours, but that doesn’t take away the fact that it’s _your_ name on the birth certificates. Which is, as you know, a binding legal document. And let’s not forget that you were married to the children’s mother.”

“When I was 23. And I’d like to emphasize that the marriage only lasted for three months,” Marcus spat out.

His marriage to Aurora had been a decision he heavily regretted ever making, one which had been influenced by alcohol and the insane notion that he actually _loved_ her. But she had soon enough cured him of that idea and by the time he had turned 24 he already knew that marriage wasn’t for him, nor were having kids. Having a family just wasn’t for him and he was okay with that. Less people who could hurt him or whom he could hurt in return.

His inner monologue was interrupted by the arrival of Mr. Shumway’s secretary, who entered while carrying several folders. He barely glanced at her, he felt no need to do so since he already met her when he walked into the attorney’s office earlier. That didn’t mean that he couldn’t feel her eyes on him. Marcus knew, of course, that women liked the way he looked. They liked how he was lean yet muscular, with broad shoulders and slim hips. Or how his hair looked permanently tousled. Not to forget his beard, which was black with patches of grey, giving him a somewhat rough look. His talent with words certainly helped as well. Which was something he used on a daily basis for his job as a journalist as well.

Mr. Shumway accepted the folders with a brief nod before opening a file and dismissing his secretary. “You admitted that your ex-wife was pregnant with the boy when you married her.”

”Yes, I did. I, however, also pointed out that Aurora made me think that the baby was mine. Which is why I proposed to her and we got married in the first place. But two months after the wedding one of her friend’s blurted out, in a drunken haze, the truth and when I realised that the baby wasn’t mine, I saw a lawyer, got divorced and left,” he explained.

Marcus still remembered the pain he had experienced after finding out that the baby wasn’t his and the knowledge that Aurora not only didn’t love him but also cheated on him. _Repeatedly_. But a small part of him had been relieved as well. He had been too young to become a father, besides what if he turned out like his own dad? He couldn’t take that risk. He didn’t want nor desired to cause such pain like his dad had done to both him and his mother.

“And yet you still continued to send her money on a monthly basis until that stopped two years ago. Why was that? And what was the reason for the abrupt ending of the payments?” Mr. Shumway questioned, his tone of voice clearly stating that he wanted a proper answer for each question.

Marcus knew that his soft spot for the baby he never met would one day come back to bite him in the ass. And it seemed that today was that day. Even though he had divorced Aurora and didn’t bother to stick around didn’t mean that the kid should have to suffer for his mother’s bad judgement in men.

“Call it a fool being sentimental. Besides the reason why I stopped sending her money was because she moved away without leaving behind a new address for me to contact her or send her money.”

“And you swear that you haven’t seen her or the children since the divorce?”

Marcus didn’t appreciate the disbelieving tone of the attorney’s voice. Who was he to question  or judge him?

“I do. You want me to swear it on a bible or something? I haven’t seen Aurora since the day I packed my stuff, left our apartment and moved to a different state. And that’s almost fourteen years ago. Which, I might add, makes it extremely unlikely that I’m the father of her youngest. Especially since the girl’s like what a year, a year and a half? And I’ve _never_ met either child. I don’t even know what they look like. Aurora never bothered with sending a picture back, not that I ever wanted to see one.”

“Then why would she have decided to put you down as the father on the birth certificates?” Mr. Shumway exclaimed, _yet again_ and while Marcus prided himself on being a patient man he could feel his patience slowly slipping from between his fingers. He had been in this office for almost an hour and he had been answering the same questions over and over.

“That’s a question only Aurora knows the answer to.”

Which was kind of the problem and not to mention the only reason why he was currently in this godforsaken mess. Because Aurora would or could never be able to offer a proper explanation as to why she thought it to be a good idea to put his name on the certificates. The reason why she couldn’t? Because she had been killed in a car accident weeks prior. Since Marcus had been in another state doing research for a new story he only found out two days ago when he finally got around to check his voicemail.

“Alright, if you’re going to stick to your story then the first thing I’m going to need from you is your copy of your Judgement for Dissolution of Marriage. I’ll need actual and legal proof that the divorce was finalised.”

Finally they were getting somewhere. It only took the man the better half of an hour.

“I have the proof but it’ll take me some time before I can hand it over,” Marcus explained.

After hearing the voicemail message he had left Chicago in such a rush that he didn’t even stop to think about any relevant paperwork or certificates he might have to take with him. He only took the time to put on some clean clothes before making his way towards the airport.

“Can’t I just do a paternity test? That’ll be much quicker than for you to wait on my papers,” he proposed.

Mr. Shumway shook his head. “DNA results will take several weeks. Besides I’ll need proper authorization before the children can even be tested.”

_Fuck that._

He didn’t have weeks. He barely had a _day._  He just wanted this to be done so he could go home and _sleep._

Marcus wasn’t going to have those certificates evolving into a loose end and hang over his head for the next who knows how many months or perhaps even the rest of his life. Even though it wouldn’t be too difficult to prove that he’d divorced Aurora, he still wanted the DNA results to back him up. “I’ll authorize it.”

“You can’t have it both ways Mr Kane. Either the children are yours or not. If they aren’t - as you so vehemently claim them not to be - then you can’t authorize the test,” Mr. Shumway stated, causing Marcus to realise that by continuing with this line of questioning he wasn’t to get anywhere. So he decided to try a more offensive approach.

“Could you perhaps care to explain to me why you’ve only contacted me _this_ week while Aurora has been dead for the last two months? And has even been buried?”

For the first time since walking into his office, Mr. Shumway looked uncomfortable.

 _Good._ Marcus thought. He could work with uncomfortable.

“Because I only found it out recently as well. I went into the shop where Aurora worked and was informed about what had happened. I don’t know why neither the police or the hospital didn’t bother to inform me since I’m listed as her attorney.”

The fact that Aurora even had the state of mind to think about getting an attorney and to write up a will still baffled him. That sounded nothing like the young, wild, funny and irresponsible girl he had met all those years ago. Perhaps being a mother had truly changed her.

“Of course I went straight to Aurora’s residence and I spoke to the son, his name’s Bellamy. He informed me that a neighbour had been taking care of him and his sister but that I couldn’t talk to her because she was currently at work. I’ve been back a couple of times but he always had an excuse for why I couldn’t talk to the neighbour. It’s obvious that there’s no adult supervision at all.”

 _You don’t need a college degree to figure that one out_ , Marcus couldn’t help but sarcastically think.

“So Mr. Kane if you continue to both insist that the children aren’t yours and refuse to take your responsibility, I’ll have no other choice then to contact Child and Youth services. They’ll pick them up at their home and place them in a foster homes or home. The latter depends if they’re lucky enough to find a family willing to take both siblings in.”

A chill ran through Marcus at the thought of both children ending up as a foster child. He had written enough stories about the problems within the system. So he knew that not all children were placed in a loving or stable environment. Or that children sometimes went from foster family to foster family, never staying anywhere for an extended period of time. Not to mention the fact that he had witnessed the limitations of foster care at first hand. He still remembered his neighbours, the McAllisters, from when he had been a little boy. The father had been unemployed most of the time so he and his wife took on foster kids solely to survive on the money they received for said children. After that they didn’t even look twice at them, neglecting them to the point that they all practically lived at his house. His mother - his sweet and too good for the world mother who had been a single parent after his father went to prison - made sure that they had food. She even mended their clothes and cut their hair. She basically raised them, so the possibility of Aurora’s children ending up in a situation like that made him feel sick to his stomach.

But what alternative did he have? Did he really want to end up being the father of two children? With the state his life was currently in? The utter chaos that was his professional life, not to mention the lack of a personal one? He couldn’t do that to those children either.

Wait _..._

Wasn’t Aurora’s mother still alive? He had met the woman, Eva, once. He remembered being shocked at how different both women had been. Aurora hadn’t been anything like her college Professor mother.

“What about Aurora’s mother? Can’t she take care of the children?” He asked.

Mr. Shumway frowned and started to shift through his papers. “During all of our meetings Miss Blake never mentioned a mother. From what I deduced, both parents had died when she was merely a teenager.”

Marcus’ mind was racing. Why didn’t Aurora mention Eva? He knew she still had been alive when Aurora was 21. Perhap they weren’t on speaking terms and that’s why she didn’t mention her mother to her attorney. If he could somehow manage to get in touch with Joanne then all of his problems would be solved. Having formed a plan he rose from his seat.

“Hold off the phone call to the Child and Youth serviced until I’ve checked some stuff out. Could you give me Aurora’s address?”

Mr. Shumway looked relieved and eagerly wrote down the address before handing him the piece of paper. Let him think that Marcus was agreeing with being the siblings’ guardian. While actually all he wanted was to get a paternity test done without all of the bureaucratic mess and find Eva. They were her grandchildren after all. Her responsibility.

* * *

Twenty minutes later had Marcus navigating through the streets of Maryland, following the attorney’s directions to Aurora’s former residence. As he approached the house and took in the peeling paint, the windows which were kept together with tape and the bare front garden he sighed. The house didn’t really give off a welcoming and cosy vibe. Finding a parking spot nearby, he quickly exited his car before moving towards the house. As he walked up the slightly crooked steps, Marcus realised that there was no doorbell so he ended up banging on the front door.

It didn’t take long before he could hear someone approaching the door and then a couple of seconds later it flew open and he’s faced with a sullen looking teenager who looks so much like Aurora that Marcus felt his breath momentarily hitch. The boy was lanky, perhaps even a bit too thin, his hair black and in dire need of a trim. He’s pale with dark circles underneath his eyes. His clothes are all black and they’ve seen better days, his shirt is frayed around the sleeves and his pants has holes in them which are most definitely not a fashion statement.

“What do you want?” The boy grumbled.

_Friendly_

”My name’s Marcus Kane,”

At the mention of his name Bellamy crossed his arms while leaning against the doorframe. “Long time no see _dad_.”

Marcus took a deep breath and counted till ten in his head.

“You and I need to talk.”

“No we don’t.”

He glared down at the boy, who to his credit didn’t even flinch. Oh he was Aurora’s child alright, he had some of her fiery spirit.

“Listen either we’re having this conversation out here or inside, but we _are_ going to talk.”

The kid tried to look tough, but when Marcus continued to glare he shrugged before letting him into the house. Which was small and all of the furniture looked old, but it was relatively clean.

“So I hear you and your sister have been living here without any supervision.”

“Well I don’t know who told you that, but you heard wrong. Mrs Green, our neighbour, just left to go to the grocery store. She’s the one who has been looking after myself and my sister.”

“Of course she is.”

“Are you calling me a liar?

“I most certainly am.”

It was obvious that Bellamy didn’t appreciate being called a liar. Marcus could tell from his glare. Not that he cared.

“Where’s your sister?”

“Sleeping.”

“What about your grandmother? How come she isn’t here and taking care of you two?”

The boy shuffled on his feet, “She’s in Australia doing research for a paper. She’s a college professor you know.”

“Yeah I do know. I met her once, years ago. But are you seriously telling me that she travelled to the other side of the world knowing that not only her daughter had died but there was also nobody looking after her grandchildren?”

“Mrs Green has been-”

“Cut the crap kid. There is no Mrs Green. Or perhaps she does exist and she really is your neighbour, but she’s most certainly _not_ taking care of you or your sister. So unless you decide to be honest with me there will be a van from Child and Youth services arriving in a couple of hours to collect you two and placing you in a foster home. Or homes ‘cause there’s a good chance that they’ll separate you from your sister.”

For the first time since meeting the teenager Marcus noticed a crack in his _I don’t give a fuck_ attitude and a flicker of fear crept into his eyes. His gaze shifted towards the ceiling, presumably to the room where his sister was sleeping.

“We don’t need anybody taking care of us. Especially Child and Youth services. We’ve been doing just fine on our own for quite some time now. Even from before the accident. She’s my sister so she’s _my_ responsibility. So why don’t you mind your own business and leave? We don’t need you.”

The boy had guts, Marcus had to give him that. Just from looking at him Marcus could tell that the boy has already been through more than anyone of his age should have. So he softened his voice.

“Fine. Tell me more about your grandmother then.”

“Her and Aurora didn’t get along. I think it had to do with the losers she dated and the drinking. She didn’t even know about the car crash.”

Of course the kid would refer to her by her name instead of calling her mom. That sounded just like something the free spirited Aurora would insist upon. While he’s disappointed that she didn’t stop falling for the wrong men and apparently developed a drinking problem, it didn’t come as a big surprise. It’s only after a couple of seconds that he processes the boy’s final sentence and his eyes widened.

_You’ve got to be kidding me. This day just kept on getting better and better._

“You’re telling me that your grandmother doesn’t even know that her daughter died?”

“Not at first but she does now. Aurora never mentioned or wrote down a phone number or address so I couldn’t contact her. Until four weeks ago when I received a letter from her and on it was a return address, so I messaged her back, telling her about the car crash and Aurora’s and Trent’s deaths.”

Marcus’ brow furrowed at the mention of a guy.

“Wait who’s Trent?”

“Aurora’s latest boyfriend. And my sister’s father. He died in the accident too, not that I can say I’m too sorry about that. He was a complete jerk. And he couldn’t down a job for longer than a week.”

_Boyfriend?_

Why the hell didn’t Aurora’s attorney mention that her boyfriend had been in the car with her as well? Also why, if this Trent guy lived with them and was the baby’s biological father would his name be the one on the birth certificate? Did Aurora really think so little of her boyfriend? That she didn’t trust him to take care of his _own_ child or her son if something were to happen to her?

“Does Trent still have any living family we can contact?”

Bellamy shook his head. “Nah. He’s from New York and grew up in the system. Which is why I absolutely do not want to end up like that. Nor do I want that for my sister. I’ve heard enough stories from him. He always lectured me that I should be grateful for having a roof above my head and that I’m living with my biological _mother._ But even if Trent still had family, we wouldn’t need to contact them. Aurora’s mom replied by sending me a note in which she promised that she’s coming back to the States in order to take care of us. So we can go live with her in Iowa.”

Marcus regarded him with a level of suspicion. At this point it wouldn’t surprise him if this was yet another lie to get him to leave.

“Alright. Let me see this note then.”

“You still think I’m lying?”

When Marcus merely held out his hand, the kid huffed before leaving the room. Bellamy returned shortly, carrying an envelope which he hadn’t expect at all, with on it the seal of the Laurents college in Willow grove Iowa.

 

> Dear Bellamy,
> 
> I just got your letter and I’m so sorry. I’m sorry that you had to go through that and that you’re currently all on your own, taking care of your sister. I’m flying home to Iowa on the 15th of October I will call you as soon as I get in and I’ll make immediate arrangements for you two. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure that everything will be okay.
> 
> Love, gran Eva.

 

After glancing at the date Marcus frowned. Why the hell would she wait _days_ before flying back to the States? But then again, this was none of his business. All he had to do was to get those DNA tests done and then the siblings could go to Iowa and live with their grandmother. A small part of him was relieved that they did have someone who was going to take care of them and wouldn’t end up in foster care after all

“Tell you what. You go get your sister and I’ll stop by the nearest McDonalds after we drop by a lab first.”

The teenager’s eyes lit up at the mention of food - causing Marcus to feel bad. _When was the last time the boy has had a proper meal?_ \- only for them to narrow in suspicion.

“Why do we gotta go to a lab?”

“Just to get some blood drawn. It’s no big deal.”

“With needles?”

“I don’t know how they exactly do that,” Marcus lied with a shrug, but Bellamy saw right through his lie.

“Fuck that. I’m not letting some stanger stick a needle in me.”

“Watch your mouth. And I don’t care what you want or don’t want. Go get the baby,” he ordered although he could understand the boy’s reluctance about the needle part. He wasn’t too keen on those things either. Not that he was going to share that piece of information.

“You’re not my boss.”

“No, I’m not. But I am the person standing between you and Youth and Child services,” Marcus countered with a glare and the boy’s eyes widened at the threat.

It was a low blow and Marcus realised that he was practically blackmailing a 14-year old but hey, he hadn’t slept in close to 36 hours, he was hungry and he could feel a massive headache coming up.

“I don’t believe you.”

Feeling fed up with the conversation Marcus simply walked out of this room, ignoring Bellamy who was yelling _where do you think you’re going? You have no right_ at him and moved towards the stairs. When he arrived on top of the first floor he checked all of the rooms, of which weren’t many, until he popped his head into a room and spotted a crib placed into the far left corner.

 _Gotcha_.

As he moved closer a whimpering sound started from within the crib and by the time he had reached it the baby was full on crying causing Marcus to grimace.

_How could anything this tiny make so much noise?_

The girl’s lying on her back with her face red and scrunched up in anger. Her hands were balled into tiny fists and they were placed next to her head. Her hair was dark, almost jet black and she was wearing a Batgirl onesie.

“Be quiet,” he ordered while gingerly reaching out and picking the baby up.

The baby instantly quieted down and pair of bright grey eyes stared at him rather curiously. She had her mother’s eyes and to his astonishment the baby opened one chubby hand and grabbed his beard, gently pulling on it.

It’s only after a couple of seconds that he became aware of an unpleasant smell. Since he sensed movement behind him, he turned his head and wasn’t surprised to see the boy hovering near him, his stance protective, following every move he made.

Marcus jerked his head towards the baby, “She needs a new diaper.”

“Change it then.”

“I thought she was _your_ responsibility?”

“I don’t do dirty diapers.”

Which was an obvious lie since he had been the one taking care of her these last couple of weeks or perhaps even long before that.

“I’ll tell you what, if you change the diaper I’ll give you five bucks,” he proposed, because let’s be honest what teenager didn’t like money?

“Ten.”

Marcus’ lips twitched, he was starting to like this kid. “Deal.”

“Money first, diaper second.”

“Well you’ll have to take your sister from me first since I kind of have my hands full at the moment.”

With an impressive roll of his eyes Bellamy took the baby and Marcus put a ten dollar bill on a nearby chair.

“I’ll go wait in my car.”

“You got a car seat?”

“Do I look like the type of person who owns a car seat?”

“I’m not gonna get in your car without a car seat. It’s the law.”

“You a cop now?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean I have to break the law. You can take the car seat that’s in Mabel.”

“Mabel?”

“The motorhome.”

“Aurora named a motorhome _Mabel_?” Marcus exclaimed while rubbing his eyes. “You know what, I’m not even surprised and I just realised that I don’t even care. Just tell me where the keys are.”

“They’re on the coffee table in the living room.”

“Fine. Don’t take too long.”

Honestly could this day get any worse? He thought while walking down the stairs. Not only was he saddled with two kids, he’d also have to drive to the lab in a motor home since there was no way a car seat would fit in his two seater Mercedes. After picking up the keys he checked if his car was parked in a safe spo. When he was reassured that it was, he quickly took out his few belongings including his phone and made his way towards the motorhome, which luckily wasn’t painted in a ridiculous colour but was simply beige. Marcus prayed that it wouldn’t break down in the middle of the highway ‘cause it most certainly looked old, but with the way his luck was at the moment, it was a strong possibility.

* * *

While waiting for Bellamy and his sister to arrive, he started to scroll through today’s news on his phone. As a journalist, he obviously followed the news and had several alerts installed, but nothing unusual had happened.

Some bill didn’t get passed in Congress. _What a shocker_ . Avocado prices dropped. _Groundbreaking_ stuff.

The biggest story of the day was that the First Lady was ill, or so her Chief of Staff had announced in a brief press conference. A case of the flu, so to the First Lady’s most sincerest regrets she would have to cancel her foreign trip to the Prime Minister of Canada. A recent picture of Abigail Griffin had been plastered next to the short announcement. As Marcus gazed at the picture he couldn’t help but notice that she seemed thinner and that her eyes seemed to have lost its sparkle.

 _Lose its sparkle? What the hell? Where did that thought come from?_ Marcus shook his head. The sleep deprivation was seriously doing a number on him.

It’s not like he was an avid follower of the First Lady’s life or whereabouts. Nor was he too interested in it. During his tenure as a journalist at the _Arkadia_ he had done a couple of articles on her and her family, specifically on her father’s political ambitions and the First Lady’s experience as a doctor for the Red Cross. And later when he worked at _Blitz_ he had written pieces focusing on her clothes and hairstyle. He didn’t like to dwell on those articles or on his entire time at the tabloid really. To think that he had been a respected and well established journalist until he made one mistake and basically threw all of this credibility away, still hurted.

Still even to him she looked thinner, but then again losing your husband and having to live in the same house as the current President would surely diminish your appetite. He had voted for her husband, Jacob Griffin when he ran for President since he liked the man’s social program for the working class. The same couldn’t be said for President Jaha though. Marcus hoped that the man wouldn’t get re-elected when the time came.

He had just looked up and written down the address of the nearest lab when Bellamy walked into the motorhome carrying his sister and a baby bag. He had even changed her clothes. Marcus watched how he carefully put her in the car seat, fastening the straps before plopping down next to him and propping his converse clad feet on the dashboard. If it had been his car Marcus would have asked to remove them but since it wasn’t, he really didn’t care.

After trying for several minutes the engine finally started. “God, this thing is crap. How old is it?”

“No shit,” Bellamy snickered, “And I dunno. Ancient like you.”

“You’re a real comedian,” Marcus remarked as he backed away from the house. “So uhm, you called me dad earlier but you know that I’m not right?”

“Yeah.”

A wave of relief rolled over him. _Good_ . He didn’t know what he would have done if somehow the boy _did_ believe that. That perhaps Aurora fabricated a story of how his biological father had left her after merely three months of marriage.

“What’s your sister’s name? I know yours is Bellamy.”

“O.”

_A vowel?_

“Aurora called her daughter O?”

Bellamy merely shrugged. “She called a motorhome Mabel, and you’re surprised she named her daughter after a vowel?”

His lips twitched again. He did have a point there. “So how old are you?”

“Eighteen.”

Marcus couldn’t help but snort at that reply. “And I’m the king of Scotland.”

From the corner of his eyes he noticed the glare the kid was throwing at him.

“Fine, I’m sixteen.”

“No, you’re fourteen yet you act like a 25-year old.”

“If you already knew my age why would you even bother with asking?” Bellamy asked, sounding exasperated.

“I wanted to know if you’d tell the truth.”

“Well I obviously didn’t. But what did you expect? I lived with Aurora after all. She didn’t really care about things like honesty.”

It’s only then that Marcus realised that he hadn’t even given Bellamy his condolences.

_God he really was an asshole wasn’t he?_

“Yeah well, I know that I haven’t said it before but I’m sorry that you lost her.”

That earned him another shrug, “It’s fine. She wasn’t really the motherly type. I hardly ever saw her and when I did she was either with one of her boyfriends or sleeping the booze off. She didn’t exactly drop me off at school every morning or baked cookies on Saturdays.”

At the mention of school Marcus made a mental note that he should call Aurora’s attorney later to ask for more information about the boy’s education. Shouldn’t the boy be in school? And once in Iowa he would need to enroll in a new one.

“Still she was your mother,” Marcus added after a pause.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

In the back of the car the baby started to whimper again.

“You did change her diaper right?” Marcus asked while glancing in the rear view mirror at the girl.

“I did, but I think she’s getting hungry. She hasn’t eaten since this morning and that was the last of the food we had at the house. So we’ll need to stop at a store to buy more.”

_Great._

Marcus had absolutely no idea what babies ate. Did she still drink milk? Or things out of a jar? Whatever she did eat, he was absolutely _not_ going to mash up vegetables or fruit.

“What does she eat?”

“Formula and those disgusting looking concoctions in jars.”

_Well at least he didn’t have to mash stuff. And the kid could feed his sister. The only thing he needed to do is to actually buy the stuff. So minimal involvement from him, excellent._

“We’ll stop by a store after we visited the lab.”

“Like hell we are. I meant what I said; I’m not letting some asshole put a needle in me. So no blood from me and I will not allow them to stick a needle in O either,” Bellamy announced, his arms folded across his chest.

“You’re going to do exactly what I tell you to do. And I’m telling you that we’re going to a lab.”

“Not a chance. As you already pointed out, you’re not my dad. I don’t have to listen to you.”

“I know that I’m not your father and you know that. The problem, however, is that your mother put _my_ name on both your birth certificates. So according to the law I _am_ your father. Which is why we need to get stuff sorted out by getting valid proof that I’m not your nor your sister’s biological father. And the only way we can do that is by doing a blood test.”

That reply resulted in a sulking teenager, but Marcus didn’t mind that at all ‘cause it meant silence. Well other than the sounds of the engine and the occasional brabble from the baby.

After pulling into the parking lot of the lab he turned towards Bellamy. “I’ll give you twenty bucks to take the test and another ten if you let them test O. as well.”  

The kid shook his head. “Nope. No needles. Just the thought of them is making me nauseous. And they’re definitely not sticking a needle in my baby sister.”

Again Marcus counted to ten in his head. _Stay calm. Shouting will get you nowhere._

Just as he started to form a plan on how he was going to drag two reluctant children into a lab, Bellamy got up from his seat before racing out of the motorhome and promptly vomiting on the ground. Luckily he managed not to throw up inside of the motorhome, for which Marcus was feeling ridiculously relieved. His happiness was short lived however because the sound of Bellamy vomiting must have upsetted O. because the baby started crying. Loudly.

_For fucks sake!_

_He should have never checked his voicemail messages._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and/or kudos are much appreciated


	3. A serendipitous meeting at a truck stop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you so much for your likes and comments. It makes me so happy to see that you're liking the story so far. 
> 
> In this chapter Abby and Marcus will meet each other, but let's just say neither of them are particularly happy about that. At least not at first.

Abby felt absolutely and utterly invisible for the first time in her life and she was loving every single second of it. Here she was, driving down the highway on her own while singing along to the radio.

With a broad smile she turned the radio louder when the first notes of Stevie Nicks’ Edge of Seventeen started.  

 

 

> _Just like the white winged dove_
> 
> _Sings a song_
> 
> _Sounds like she's singin'_
> 
> _Whoo, baby, whoo_
> 
> _Said, whoo_
> 
> _And the days go by_
> 
> _Like a strand in the wind_
> 
> _In the web that is my own_
> 
> _I begin again_
> 
> _Said to my friend, baby_
> 
> _Nothin' else mattered_

 

The sun was shining brightly, there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky and the only thing in front of her were miles and miles of highway.

This was as free as she had been or even felt in _years._

Last night she had spent her first night ever in a motel. Abby hadn’t minded the thin walls, the outdated furniture or the slightly tattered towels. None of that mattered because she was blissfully alone. Even breakfast the next morning with its soggy toast, dry bacon and slightly runny eggs had been the best meal she had had in months. Whereas before she had to push herself to eat and keep down even a cracker, now she actually went for seconds.

With her sunglasses perched on her nose, Abby couldn’t help but let out a soft giggle. She still couldn’t believe that she had outsmarted not only Jaha and the Secret Service, but her father as well. Oh how she wished she could have seen the look on her father’s face when he found out she had left.

This was not only glorious but also the single most brazen thing she had ever done in her life.

She glanced at herself in the rearview mirror. Even though the grey wig was gone, nobody had recognized her so far. Who knew the difference another wardrobe, a pair of scissors and colour shampoo could make? Gone was her sleek long light brown hair. Now she had bangs and shoulder length hair with blonde highlights.

Nobody would ever link her to First Lady Abigail Walters Griffin.

As she kept humming along to the radio she decided to take the next exit, for no other reason than because she could. It’s not like she had a specific goal in mind. For now she simply wanted to aimlessly drive around and fully the experience and freedom to do so.

It might be foolish of her to feel so happy and carefree when the President was undoubtedly using all his power and that of the Secret Service and other agencies, such as the CIA and FBI to track her down. And she wasn’t naive enough to think that this could continue, that she could stay ahead of them. Which is why she had to live in the moment and why every second was precious.

* * *

Marcus wished he had the ability to punch himself in the face. Instead of being behind the wheel of his Mercedes and listening to the radio or being in his apartment, lazily lying on his couch while watching tv and having a nice cup of coffee or even working, he was going to drive an ancient motorhome named _Mabel_ of all things, with two children he barely knew, nevermind liked.

And he was going to be stuck with them for a longer period than he’d initially anticipated. Or had wanted for that matter. Just thinking about the phone call he had last night with Aurora’s attorney was enough to make his blood boil.

After his failed attempt at getting those blood tests done, they had ended up at McDonalds. When Bellamy had ordered his food and he and his sister were seated, Marcus had gone outside to make a phone call - moving to such a spot which enabled him to still keep  an eye on the siblings.

He had informed Mr. Shumway about the kids’ grandmother and that she was currently on her way to the States and would be home in about five days.

**_*flashback to last night’s phone call*_ **

“Child and Youth services will still need to check and investigate if the grandmother can provide a satisfactory and stable home environment for them,” Mr. Shumway stated.

That sentence alone made Marcus furious.

“That’s absolutely ridiculous. You were willing to hand them over to me just because my _name_ is on their bird certificates and I’m not even their biological family. Yet you won’t let them stay with her? Their maternal grandmother? Even though I’ve told you that she’s a college professor. So you know that they’ll be financially in the clear. What could be more stable than growing up with her? And, pray tell, how is them going go live to her not a better solution than putting them into foster care? That makes absolutely no sense whatsoever.”

“I understand your frustration Mr. Kane, but nevertheless she will still be investigated,” the attorney explained.

“And just how long is that going to take?” Marcus inquired while tiredly rubbing his eyes.

“That's difficult to say, I say around six weeks to two months at most.”

“Two months?” He cried out.

_What kind of messed up system was this?_

“You can’t be serious. They already lived on their own for the past two months and now you want to add most likely another two months, even though they have a grandmother who’s willing to look after them? What about the the boy’s education? He has already missed enough classes as it is,” Marcus pressed.

“There’s no other way Mr. Kane. As for Bellamy’s school situation, we‘ll have to look for a temporary solution.”

“Will they at least be able to live with their grandmother during the investigation?”

_Please, let the answer be yes._

“No, they’ll be placed in a temporary foster home.”

_Goddammit. Nothing was going to do go his way was it?_

“Together?”

“Hopefully, but there are no guarantees.”

At this point Marcus had to kick something so he took his anger out on a nearby trash can. Luckily for him the area where he was standing was deserted so nobody saw him lose control. He couldn’t let them be placed in foster care, he just couldn’t. The baby would be alright enough since she was still young, but Bellamy? He had seen first hand the devastating effect foster care could have on a child if they were placed in the wrong family. Marcus couldn’t take that risk, not when there was a chance that foster care would break the boy’s spirit. He had been through enough already.

Marcus needed more time. More time to figure out a plan. Besides he still needed to get those blood tests done. To prove that he wasn’t their father.

“Alright, if that’s the only way. How about I stay with them tonight at their house? Give them one final night and then tomorrow Child and Youth services can pick them up,” he proposed.

When it stayed silent on the the end, Marcus continued, “After everything those kids have been through it’s the least we can do for them.”

“Fine. But I expect them to ready at 9 o’clock sharp,” Mr. Shumway informed him.

“Absolutely! Not a second later,” he promised.

_Not a chance asshole. I won’t let you put them in foster care._

“Until tomorrow then Mr. Kane.”

“Until tomorrow.”

**_*end of flashback*_ **

Which is why, this morning, he had ended up behind the wheel of Mabel around 7:30 am, accompanied by two sleepy and incredibly moody children.  

Initially he had wanted to fly out to Iowa - to save some time -, rent a car at the airport and drive to Eva’s house but Bellamy had quickly put an end to that little plan.

Apparently needles - as Marcus quickly found out - weren’t the boy’s only phobia. After they had gotten home from McDonalds he had started looking up flights but after Bellamy had found that out, the boy had threatened to announce that Marcus was kidnapping him and his sister if they ended up at the airport. Or scream bloody murder. Whatever worked the best and fastest.

Any other child might have been bluffing, but not this kid, not Aurora’s son. And given the fact that Marcus was already skating on thin ice legally speaking by dodging Child and Youth services, nevermind his plan to leave the state, he didn’t think it would be wise to press the boy on this.

So late last night he had ordered Bellamy to pack some of his and his sister’s clothes, and he made sure that they had enough baby food and diapers.

“Tell me again why we had to leave so goddamn early?” Bellamy muttered, his voice still laced with sleep.

“Because Child and Youth services are picking you and your sister up at nine and I want to be as far from your house as possible when they do arrive and find the house empty. And watch your language. Aurora might not have cared about the swearing but I do.”

With a sour look on his face, the boy let himself fall in the passenger's seat.

“I didn’t even have time to eat,” he grumbled, “I barely had to time to dress myself and O.”

“Eat a granola bar or some crisps or something.”

“Jeez thanks. How nutritious. You’ll definitely win the Father of the Year award with advice like that,” Bellamy sarcastically spat out.

“Listen kid, this isn’t exactly how I imagined my day to go either. But since I’m your best chance of you guys ending up with your grandmother I’d suggest you suck it up and deal with it. And I’m _not_ your father,” Marcus uttered.

He didn’t know how quickly Child and Youth services would start looking for them. Or how thorough they were going to be. Especially since Aurora’s attorney would surely figure out just where he was taking them. But to play it safe, Marcus decided to stay off the interstate. At least for now.

More than two hours passed before Bellamy spoke again.

“I need to pee.”

“There’s a toilet in the back,” Marcus replied without taking his eyes from the road.

“Uhm, have you seen the bathroom? It’s disgusting in there.”

“Clean it then.”

“With what?”

“Your hands.”

“No really? And here I was thinking about doing it with my teeth,” Bellamy muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm and Marcus couldn’t suppress an amused twitch of his lips.

“Hilarious. But I’m serious. If you want to pee, you’re going to have to clean the bathroom ‘cause I’m not stopping. We’re on a tight schedule here.”

With a huff Bellamy shifted in his seat, but he made no move to get up.

“I’m also hungry. And O. will need to eat soon too, I only gave her a bit of formula before we left the house this morning.”

“You can feed her right now. I don’t see why I have to stop for that. We still have plenty of baby food in the fridge and there’s formula in the cabinet above the sink.”

Bellamy shook his head. “I can’t do that, If I feed her while Mabel’s moving she’ll definitely vomit. And I can’t stand it when she throws up. The sight of vomit makes me nauseous too. We’ll need to stop,” he explained.

“Not going to happen. We only have five days until your grandmother arrives in the States,” Marcus countered.

“But-“

“Go feed your sister Bellamy.”

The boy got up with lots of noise and muffled mutterings. Marcus heard him rummaging through the baby bag and opening the tiny fridge - probably taking out a jar of baby food. And then he heard nothing except the sounds of a baby eating, the motorhome’s engine and the radio.

But his reprieve couldn’t possibly last. After fifteen minutes Marcus heard the baby cough, then gag and then she started to hurl.

“I told you so,” Bellamy exclaimed when the baby was done throwing up, sounding slightly smug.

_It was not even 10 am and he already needed a drink._

* * *

The sound of her stomach rumbling made Abby look up at her watch. To her utter surprise it was already twenty past eleven and she had been driving since 8.30, only stopping briefly for gas.

Mm what would she eat? Perhaps a burger with some fries and oh, what about a milkshake? She can’t even remember the last time she had a milkshake. It probably had been years.

After a couple of miles she spotted a truck stop with what appeared to be a small diner. Turning on her traffic indicator she turned right and into the parking lot. Two parking spaces to the left of a beige motorhome there was an empty spot so she drove towards it, noticing a man leaning against the motorhome smoking a cigarette.

A teenage boy carrying a child exited the motorhome before muttering something to the guy, whom Abby presumed was his father.

She has always wondered what it would be like to go on a family holiday like that. Must be nice spending time with the people you loved.

Meanwhile Marcus was happy to have finally escaped the motorhome, leaving Bellamy still inside as the boy was busy putting a new diaper on his sister. He took a deep breath. The air smelt of diesel, beer and fried food, which definitely beat the smell of a full diaper.

Ruffling in his jeans pocket he took out his pack of cigarettes and lighted one up. He really needed to quit, but being around those kids did nothing to ease his stress level, so smoking it was. He’ll just quit after getting back to New York.

While taking a drag Marcus noticed a couple of hitchhikers on the other end of the road who were flipping off a driver who didn’t stop for them. Turning his head, he saw a woman in a Chevrolet turn onto the parking lot and he felt a stab of jealousy when he noticed that she was on her own. No moody teenager or vomiting baby for her.

He barely paid attention to Bellamy when he came out of Mabel - he kept his gaze on the Chevrolet - announcing that he was going to get some lunch at the diner. The boy hesitated for a second, but when Marcus didn’t reply, he walked away, his sister carefully balanced on his hip.

_What did the boy think? That they were going to have a cosy lunch together? Not likely._

After having parked her car the woman excited the vehicle before walking towards the diner. There was something familiar about her but Marcus couldn't quite put his finger on it. The way she walked and carried herself was almost regal. Which was in stark contrast with the way she was dressed. His eyes flickered over her, taking in her cheap white sneakers, her red shorts and light blue oversized top. Perched on her nose were a large pair of cheap looking sunglasses hiding her eyes but from what he could tell, she wasn't wearing any make up. And she was heavily pregnant. Yet she didn’t walk like most pregnant women that far along all seemed to move. Odd.

The woman reached the restaurant seconds before Bellamy and Marcus saw how she held the door open for the boy with a small smile, not that Bellamy acknowledged the gesture.

Honestly, didn’t Aurora teach him even the basics of how to politely interact with other people? But then again, he did grow up with Aurora as a mother and she was never known for following the rules of etiquette.

Just as he finished his cigarette his stomach began to rumble. Fuck, he was going to have to join those kids wasn’t he? Looks like Bellamy was going to get his fun family lunch after all.

Well it was either that or eating a granola bar. _Ugh._ He’d rather take his chances at the diner and with those kids than eating one of those.

As he threw the remainder of his cigarette away, he pushed himself off the side of the motorhome and started to walk towards the diner. Just as Marcus passed the woman's Chevrolet he noticed that she had left her keys in the ignition

For a fleeting second he debated whether he should take them out or go inside and find the woman, but then he shrugged. It wasn’t his fault she was stupid enough to leave her car keys in the car.

Entering the diner Marcus was almost assaulted with the smell of coffee and fried food. He wasn’t sure you could even call it a diner though, that seemed almost like an insult to _actual_ diners. The furniture was cheap looking and the fabric of the benches had tears in them. But it looked clean enough and he was hungry so there was no point in being too picky.

He didn’t spot the siblings right away so he walked towards the back of the diner and took a seat on a bench. Mere seconds later a waitress appeared and he ordered some coffee and toast.

While waiting for his food to arrive he checked his phone and luckily he hadn’t received any new mails from Aurora's attorney. After opening Google maps Marcus figured that at the pace they were currently driving it would take him an extra two or three days to reach Idowa. And that was the best case scenario ‘cause Mabel had been making some troublesome noises for the past twenty miles.

It had been merely 24 hours and he already smoked too many cigarettes and he had another massive headache. How the hell was he supposed to survive at least eight more days with those two?

Perhaps he should have left them both at their house and had Child and Youth services pick them up. But as soon as the thought crossed his mind, Marcus dismissed it. Even though they were a pain, he would or could never do that. Not when the memories of the McAllisters still burned in his brain. Not to mention that he had too much of his mother, Vera, in him to abandon the Blake siblings like that.

* * *

Abby dipped one of her French fries into her ketchup while she observed the man sitting on the other side of the diner. She immediately noticed him as he entered the diner, which hadn’t been difficult since he had walked in with such confidence you simply had to notice him. After a minute of looking, she had recognized him as the guy she had spotted earlier leaning against the large beige motorhome as she left her car.

There was something about the man that made her sneak glances at him between small bites of her food. Perhaps it was because he didn’t look anything like the suit wearing, slick and polished men she had been surrounded with her entire life. He radiated a sense of _manliness_ with his wild hair and beard - both streaked with grey, and his outfit of a tight black T-shirt, worn dark blue jeans and a leather jacket. Just as her eyes drifted towards his mouth the man caught her gaze and she quickly averted her eyes, focusing on her burger once more with cheeks flaming from embarrassment at getting caught staring.

Voices murmuring made her glance up again and she observed how the young boy she had held the door open earlier came out of the toilets before settling down next to the man, his baby sister firmly in his arms. The man kept glaring at the boy before muttering something and moving slightly away from the children, but he still remained seated on the same bench. It was obvious to Abby that the man wasn’t too happy having those children around. He looked like the type of father who saw his children as an inconvenience, which angered her. Oh, how she wished she could walk up to him and yell that he should be grateful for having children. That not everyone was so lucky. Or how she could give anything to have children of her own, to have a little baby with –

A stab of pain shot through her chest as Abby was reminded once more of what she could never have. But there was no point in dwelling on it. Besides she had shed enough tears over it. Swallowing down the pain, Abby took another bite of her burger while continuing to observe the little family.

The boy looked about 14 or maybe 15, lanky with too long hair as he busied himself with his sister, who was gurgling in her brother’s arms. She was absolutely adorable, with rosy cheeks, a mop of black hair and chubby arms and legs. She was exactly the type of baby Abby tried to avoid at all costs. Interacting with older children hurt less, but babies…

Shaking her head, she took a sip of her milkshake. As fun as watching the people around her interact was, Abby didn't want to stay too long in one place. No need to make it easy for the Secret Service. So she finished her milkshake, gathered her trash and moved towards the trash can so she could dispose of it.

As she walked past an elderly couple they gave her a broad smile, and she smiled back. People smiled a lot at pregnant ladies it seemed. Abby couldn’t help but touch her hair, a grin appearing on her face as she felt the much shorter cut. It beat wearing the itchy wig any time. Initially her plan had be to keep her disguise as an elderly woman, but she couldn’t imagine wearing the wig for a long period of time. Also her chances of people getting suspicious were higher, especially if people came closer. She may be 34 but her face was too smooth to successfully pretend at being an elderly woman.

That’s when the idea of a fake pregnancy had entered her mind. Which hadn't been an easy decision. She had cried for a bit, but in the end it was the best solution. Now even if people thought she looked like Abigail Walters Griffin, they'd dismiss it after taking one glance at her pregnant belly. After her trip to Walmart and when she had been back at the motel, she had reshaped a pillow by adding some ties and binding it around her stomach, making sure it didn’t look too lumpy.

With her shoulder length brown-blondish hair, her face free of makeup, and wearing cheap clothes she couldn't look more different from the First Lady of the United States. Instead she looked like a heavily pregnant woman down on her luck.

As she stepped out of the diner she started to search her purse for her car keys. Strangely enough she couldn’t find them. Her heartbeat accelerated. She looked again and came across her deodorant, tissues, a bottle of water, a snickers bar, some gum and her wallet.

Could she have left them in the car? _Damn._

She really needed to be more careful. Because of her upbringing as the daughter of an American senator and her time as a Governor’s wife and being the First Lady she had grown accustomed to aids carrying everything for her, not to mention having her own chauffeur. Just this morning she had nearly forgotten her purse while checking out of the motel.

Shaking her head at her own forgetfulness, Abby started to walk towards the parking lot and searched for the already familiar sight of her Chevrolet.

Only she couldn’t find it.

How odd.

She could have sworn that she was parked two spots to the left of the beige motorhome. But perhaps she was wrong and had parked somewhere else. Yes that had to be it. Taking a deep breath, Abby started to walk across the parking lot. But even after crossing the space twice she still couldn’t find the Chevrolet.

_No no. Please no._

After one final search she had to face the truth; her car was gone. Someone must have noticed that the keys were still in the ignition and he or she had stolen it.

How absolutely stupid of her.

Abby could feel tears welling up.

_One day of freedom? Was that really all she would get?_

She could already hear the mocking tone of her father, berating her for not being more careful _. You couldn’t even survive on your own for more than 24 hours_.

A panic attack was slowly creeping up as her limbs started to tremble and her breathing got shallow. No! She was not going to freak out in the middle of a parking lot. This was fixable. All she needed to do was go back in and ask for the nearest car dealership. She still had more than enough cash to buy a new car. Yes, that’s what she’ll do, she’ll buy another ca-

_Oh no_

Her knees buckled beneath her and she sat down on the curb, hands shaking.

She had hidden her most of her money beneath the spare tire in the trunk of the car because she had figured that would be safer than walking around with thousands of dollars in her purse. And now all of her money was gone. The only cash she had left was a twenty dollar bill and some change.

Hands curled into fists to stop the trembling, Abby bit her lower lip in an attempt to refrain from crying.

This was it. Her adventure was over and that after merely 24 hours. How utterly pathetic. She’d have to call the White House now. What other solution did she have? Hitchhike? No, she couldn’t possibly do that. She’ll have to face defeat and call the President. After that it wouldn’t take long before a helicopter would arrive, operated by the Secret Service as they whisked her away. She’d be back in Washington and the White House in time for dinner.

Abby could already hear her father’s speech as he informed her at how utterly disappointed he was in her. After her little escape, he would make sure she never had a second to herself again. He’d probably add another member or two to her security detail. Not to mention the fact that she’d have to face Jaha as well. They’d probably move the date of their engagement closer too, in fear of her sneaking off again.

_Oh god._

A lump formed in her throat and breathing became more difficult.

This time tomorrow she’d be back dressed in some designer dress, wearing heels which hurt her feet, with layers of make up on her face and she’d probably have an emergency haircut as well. She would once again be subjected to entire days of meeting people, shaking numerous hands and fake smiling for hours.

No. She couldn’t go back. She just couldn’t.

A wheezing sound filled the air and with a start Abby realised that she was the one making the noise.

 _Breathe_.

She needed to remember to breathe.

“She’s too heavy. I can’t carry both her bag and O.”

The voices made Abby look up. The teenager from before came to a halt mere inches from her before gently setting the baby down next to her and yelling at his father.

“Your sister, your responsibility remember?” The guy stated before moving towards the motorhome, not even sparing the boy a glance.

What a jerk.

The boy crossed his arms. He didn’t move away from her sister, but he also made no movement to pick her up again.

Abby watched how the little girl pushed her body forwards as to crawl, only to rise on her hands and feet. She then started to waddle to the edge of the curb. With a quick glance at the other two members of the family Abby realised that none of them were paying any attention to the baby, they were too busy glaring at each other.

The baby continued to waddle further away.

The teenager hissed, “I mean it Kane. I know that this isn’t how you imagined spending your weekend, but guess what – neither did I. There’s no need to act like such a jerk. She’s not toxic you know. You _can_ touch her.”

“Listen kid, you’re responsible for your sister. The only thing I have to do is pay for the food, the drinks and do the driving. That’s it.”

With every word that came out of the man’s mouth Abby’s dislike for him grew. What kind of father said such things to his son? But even if he was a horrible father, he was at least smart enough to take his keys with him because she noticed how he stuck them in the door of the motorhome.

“You’re full of crap.”

“Yeah well, I’d suggest you get used to it. ‘Cause I’m not going to change my mind.”

They were both so involved in their argument that neither of them noticed how the baby got off the curb in crawled onto the parking lot.

But Abby did.

And almost instinctively she rose from her position on the ground. There was a child in danger. Which was something she had never been able to ignore.

“So why don’t you stop complaining, pick your sister up and get into the motorhome,” the man demanded.

“You’re not the boss of me. You have done nothing but order me around since yesterday and I’m absolutely sick of it. I told you we didn’t need you. That we would be perfectly fine without you.”

A couple in a Corsica started to back out of its parking space, and they were way too close to the baby. Without giving it a second thought Abby jumped forwards, picked the baby up and moved them out of the car’s way.

The baby looked at her with wide eyes, before clutching her top with one hand while the other one tugged on her hair as she happily brabbled some nonsense.

Abby’s heart was hammering in her chest. Holding babies terrified her. What if she hurt them? Or they got sick? She’d held more than enough sick babies during her time as a doctor. And several of them had unfortunately died, adding to her fear. Not to forget that holding a baby was a painful reminder of what she could never have.

Her gaze shifted towards the teenager and man who were still oblivious to what had happened and an anger she hadn’t felt in a very long time burned in her chest.

“What kind of father are you?” She cried out.

Mr. Jerk – as she had named him in her mind - slowly turned out, a look of bewilderment of his face at being spoken to in such a manner. When he noticed her, he gazed intently at her with those dark brown eyes.

Abby stormed towards him, anger radiating from her in waves.

“Excuse me?” He had the guts to ask.

“Don’t you know that babies are extremely vulnerable? And should be watched at all times?”  

She jerked her head towards the Corsica which was leaving the parking lot. “Your daughter was crawling and if I haven’t intervened she would have been run over.”

The man simply continued to stare at her.

“What? Suddenly you don’t know how to talk? Because you seemed pretty talkative mere seconds ago,” she spat out, causing the boy to snicker.

Turning her head, Abby glowered at the boy as well. “I fail to see the humor in this. You weren’t paying attention either.”

The boy’s smirk dropped and she took another step closer to the man, acutely aware of how much taller he was.

“How could you be so irresponsible?” She questioned, truly not understanding how a parent could act so carelessly.

“He doesn’t care about us,” the boy behind her uttered.

That only made her angrier. “Children need somebody who watches out for them. Especially babies.”

Instead of apologising, the guy tilted his head towards the space where her car had been. “What happened to your car?”

Whatever she had expected to come out of his mouth, this most certainly wasn’t it. Yet she refused to let him have the upperhand.

“I’m telling you that your daughter was almost ran over and you ask about my car? What the hell is wrong with you?” She glowered, before thrusting the baby towards him, but he didn’t even move a muscle. Instead he looked at the boy. “You take her and get into the motorhome.”

“Why?”

“Just take your sister and get in. Don’t forget to feed her before we get moving again.”

His tone was calm yet authoritative and Abby couldn’t blame the boy for immediately doing as he was told. He gently took the baby from Abby and with a final dirty look, he opened the motorhome and stepped in, throwing the door closed behind him.

The man – what did the boy call him? _Kane_ \- crossed his arms and regarded her with a tiny smirk which infuriated her.

“They’re not my kids,” Kane casually stated.

Her brow furrowed, “Then why are they with you?”

“I was a friend of their mother’s. She passed away,” he informed her.

She didn’t expect that either.

“Well I’m sorry about to hear that, but that still doesn’t mean that you don’t have to look after them.”

Kane gave her a small nod as to say _point taken._  

“But that’s enough about me. Why don’t you tell me what happened to your car?” He asked.

Abby crossed her arms as well while lifting her chin. “There’s nothing to tell.”

“It was stolen wasn’t it?”

He was staring intently at her. His gaze was almost calculating. _What if he recognised me?_ She fleetingly thought before taking a step backwards.

“No it isn’t.”

At that Kane let out a laugh. “Where is it then? ‘Cause it was parked close to the motorhome. And now it isn’t. Someone noticed that the car keys were still in the ignition and stole it didn’t they?”

Her eyes narrowed. “You saw that I left my keys in the car and you didn’t even bother to I don’t know take them out or tell me?”

He shrugged, “It might have crossed my mind, but as you pointed out, I’m very _irresponsible.”_

Oh how she wanted to swipe that smug smirk off his face.  

“You better go inside and call the police. There were two hitchhikers earlier and I wouldn't be surprised if they got tired of waiting and stole your car. I can stay until the cops show up and give them an accurate description if you want to.”

Abby had no intention of calling the cops whatsoever. They would ask after her driver’s license or ID and then all hell would break loose.  

“That won’t be necessary, thank you. I’m sure I’ll be able to find a solution.”

“Oh I don’t mind. Truly,” Kane replied, still gazing her at as if he was trying to remember where he’d seen her face before.

She needed to get away from him. Right now.

“I don’t want to hold you up. Thank you away,” Abby gave him a tight smile before turning around and just as she wanted to walk away, he called out;

“Stop right where you are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and/or comments are much appreciated


	4. Me and Miss Turner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AGAIN thank you all so much for liking and commenting on this story. With each hit, kudos or comment a huge smile appears on my face and I can’t thank you all enough.
> 
> In this chapter questions will be asked, answers will be given (not necessarily truthful ones) and some bonding with a reluctant teenager will take place.

_Where had he seen her before?_

Marcus studied the woman standing in front of him. She looked back at him, her posture both defiant and - not exactly fearful - but definitely warily. There was something in the way she carried herself that looked familiar.

He let his eyes flicker over her. She had a graceful neck, prominent collarbones and slim arms and legs which made her pregnant stomach look almost comically large. There was no wedding ring or any other form of jewelry on her, or none that he could immediately spot. Moving his attention back to her face, Marcus was once more captivated by her brown eyes.

_Where had he seen those eyes?_

Marcus couldn’t shake the feeling that he had seen her before. But where? He usually had an excellent memory where people were concerned, had to be for his work as a journalist. And yet his memory seemed to fail him this time.

The fact that she seemed reluctant to call the police to report the theft had piqued his interest as well. “You’re not going to report the theft are you?”

Marcus watched her swallow but other than that she squared her jaw and kept her cool. Which was something he admired.

“What makes you say that?”

Yeah, she definitely had something to hide and Marcus had a good idea just what that was.

“Well, perhaps you can’t report it.”

“And why on earth wouldn’t I be able to report it?”

“Because the car didn’t belong to you.”

The woman’s eyes flared with indignation. “Are you insinuating that I stole that car?”

Marcus shrugged, “All I know is that the car you arrived in is gone and that for some reason you don’t want the cops to know.”

“Well, that just shows how little you know. I haven’t stolen a single thing in my entire life.”

“Why don’t you want to call the police then?” He pressed.

“That’s none of your concern,” she muttered, sounding and looking entirely done with the conversation.

But he wasn’t ready to let her go just yet. The journalist in him had been alerted by her reluctance to call the police and he wanted to know _why._ So Marcus took a wild stab and pressed further. “You’re afraid to call the cops because then they’ll figure out that the car isn’t yours but your boyfriend’s.”

“Boyfriend?”

He jerked head towards her hands. “I figured boyfriend since you aren’t wearing a wedding ring.”

A brief look of pain flashed across her face and Marcus observed how the woman almost subconsciously rubbed her ring finger. _What was that about?_

“Who says I’m seeing anybody?”

He glanced at her stomach.

“Well somebody must have helped you with that.”

She glanced down too, looking faintly surprised when she noticed her large stomach. It almost looked as if she had forgotten that she was heavily pregnant. Which seemed strange to Marcus. Who could possibly forget being pregnant? But she quickly recovered.

“Not necessarily. I could have been to a fertility clinic,” she countered with a look of defiance and almost _superiority_ on her face which riled him up. Her stance was almost screaming _I dare you to contradict me._

“You don’t look like the type of person who could afford that,” he bluntly stated and he felt a thrill go through him when she took a step forward, her jaw taut.

“Oh really? Tell me then, just what type of person do I look like to you?” She asked, while crossing her arms.

The fact that she had to slightly tilt her head so she could look him in the eyes gave him some perverse pleasure.

“Mmm, let me think,” Marcus replied, a tiny smirk playing on his lips and she narrowed her eyes in response.

 _What are you doing man? Have you lost your mind?_ His mind was screaming at him. _This isn’t the time for flirting._

Which he wasn’t doing.

Honestly.

He was just curious. But besides a healthy dose of curiosity, Marcus didn’t really know or understand _why_ he was still talking to her.

Why he was being so persistent and pressing her for answers?

If it had been any other person he would have let it go at least five questions ago. And yet here he was. Unwilling to let her go.

He really must be starved for any type of adult conversation if he clutched onto the first person who had said anything to him. Even if the conversation had started with her throwing insults at him. But apart from that there was simply something about the woman that intrigued him.

Or perhaps those were merely excuses and he just really didn’t want to back into Mabel and be surrounded by those kids again.  

“Like the type of person who steals her boyfriends car and then leaves the keys in the ignition.”

She shot him an unimpressed look. “Wow. Such a deep character study. I’m shaken to the core with how well you already seem to know me. Please enlighten me even further with your knowledge,” she uttered, the sarcasm clear in her voice.

_Who the hell did she remind him off? There was something familiar in the way she tilted her head while addressing him._

The answer was right in front of him, almost dangling in front of his face but he just couldn’t grasp it. The way she spoke, moved and behaved, they all felt recognizable. But then there was her hair, her clothes and pregnancy which somehow didn’t add up.

“Not that it’s any of your business but I had a very good reason for leaving him.”

Dread crept into his chest after hearing that statement.

“Did he beat you?” Marcus asked, his voice calm yet there was an underlying note of tension in it.

“No. He never got physical,” the woman swiftly avowed and she sounded genuine.

“He was just -“

Abby wrecked her brain. What explanation could she possibly offer? She thought back on one of the main reasons why she left the White House, which was being controlled by both her father and Jaha. Especially the latter, he always wanted to know where she was and genuinely didn’t seem to understand why she was so reluctant to spend time with him. Or why she wasn’t more enthusiastic about marrying him.  

“He was very controlling. Always wanted to know where I was and with whom. He made me reschedule my work so we could eat together and stuff like that. I never had a moment to myself,” Abby divulged, the mix of lies and truth rolling from her tongue with ease.

“Doesn’t sound like a healthy and safe environment, both for you and the kid.”

“No, it doesn’t. Which is why I left.”

Marcus hummed, “Do you have any money left?”

“A little.”

“How little is little?”

Abby straightened her back. “Thank you so much for offering to wait for the police, but I’ll manage on my own from here on out,” she declared, the dismissal clear in her voice before she turned and started to walk way.

Only she didn’t get very far.

Marcus admired her bravery _but_ his curiosity still wasn’t sated so before he could even properly process it - or talk himself out of it - he had already taken several steps in her direction before grabbing her purse. Ignoring her outraged yell Marcus pulled out her wallet which only contained a twenty dollar bill and some change.

“You’re not going to get far with that.”

Annoyed and not to mention a bit shaken, Abby grabbed both her wallet and purse back. “How dare you scare me like that and take my things. You have absolutely no right going through my personal belongings. Who the hell do you think you are?”

Amused, Marcus watched her fume and mutter insults. Even though he would never tell her this, he thought she looked kind of cute all riled up like that. Especially since the top of her head barely reached his chin.

“I’m going to turn around and leave. And if you even try anything like that again, I will scream,” Abby stated and he had no trouble believing that she would do that.

In an ideal world Marcus would have let her leave.

He really should have done that. But he didn’t. Or couldn’t really. Not when he still didn’t know who she reminded him off. Which is why he called out,

“Hey, do you wanna hitch a ride?”

Abby stopped mid step and turned around, a calculating look on her face.

“With _you_?”

“No with that trucker who just pulled into the parking lot,” Marcus sarcastically muttered, “Yes with me. And those darling children you met earlier of course,” He continued, “We’re currently on our way to Iowa. Their grandmother lives there and she’s gonna raise them. You can come too if you want to. To Iowa I mean or if you want to get out earlier, that’s fine too.”

“Let me get this straight. You’re asking _me_ ,” she gestured at herself, “A woman you’ve known for merely ten minutes to come along?” She finished with wide eyes, her tone incredulous.

“Well come on now, we’ve know each other for at least fifteen minutes,” he smirked, eliciting an eyeroll and a soft giggle from the woman.

At last he had managed to draw out an emotion other than annoyance or anger from her. He didn’t care for the way his heart seemed to skip a beat at the sound of her laughter though. Didn’t care for that at all.

“But I do expect something in return.”

Her gaze immediately turned warily and Marcus knew exactly which way her thoughts were going. And sure, she was an attractive woman, he couldn’t deny that, but he wasn’t that type of guy. Besides, they would be sharing a motorhome with two children. And then there was her pregnancy, which didn’t make her any less attractive, but he had no intention of getting even remotely involved with someone in such a position.

“Nothing like that. All you have to do is to make sure Bellamy doesn’t bug me too much and take care of the baby.”

Instead of being relieved which he had expected her to be, she grew tense. “I don’t know anything about babies.”

Marcus grinned while glancing down. “Well don’t you think it’s time you learnt? Think of it as a free learning experience.”

Yet again, he had the impression that she had forgotten that she was even pregnant. And truth to be told, she didn’t look particularly happy at the prospect of becoming a mother either. Which was kind of hypocritical since less than 10 minutes again she had accused him of being an irresponsible father who didn’t care about his children.

A silence hung between them and Marcus noted how she bit her lower lip until a look of determination flashed across her face.

“Alright then, if that’s your only request I’ll be more than happy to come along.”

“Wait...you will?”

Her quick concession surprised him. There truly was more to this tiny woman than one would think at first glance. A part of him felt crazy for having even suggested that she could hitch a ride. He barely knew her. And yet he felt like he could trust her. Even with the task of taking care of the Blake siblings. And if her and the children didn’t get along he’d simply give her enough money to get by for a while and drop her off at the next truck stop or small town.

“I am,” she confirmed.

“Alright. I’d like to give you one warning though,” Marcus began, prompting her to raise an eyebrow. “Both of them have delicate stomachs so I’d suggest not feeding the baby while Mabel’s moving.”

“Mabel?”

Marcus pointed towards the motorhome, “This old girl.”

“You named the motorhome _Mabel?!_ ”

The look on her face was so dumbfounded that he couldn’t have suppressed the bark of laughter escaping from between his lips even if he had tried. “Nothing to do with me I can assure you. She already had that name when I turned up. Kind of suits her don’t you think?”

Abby didn’t even dignify that with an answer. She simply rolled her eyes and made her way back to the motorhome, to _Mabel._

“I’m Marcus Kane by the way. I feel like if we’re gonna spend some time together we should at least know each other’s names,” he remarked while walking next to her.

“I’m Gail. Gail Turner.”

Her hesitance before telling him her name didn’t go unnoticed. And it made him wonder if she’d given him a fake one. Unwilling to press any further in fear of her second guessing her decision to hitch a ride, Marcus let it slide. For now.

“Nice to meet you Gail.”

She gave him a faint nod of acknowledgment. “You too.”

She continued walking, but Marcus was momentarily stunned. _Abigail Walters Griffin._

The way she moved her head while nodding. It reminded him of the First Lady.

When Abby noticed that he wasn’t following she stopped and turned around. “Something wrong?”

Marcus managed to move his legs after a couple of seconds. Shaking his head, he scoffed. He really needed to get more than three hours of sleep tonight. Because there was no way the First Lady of the United States would ever end up at a truck stop while wearing clothes like that. Not to mention being heavily pregnant.

“Has anyone ever told you that you look like the First Lady?” He couldn’t help but inquire.

Abby blinked. “On occasion yes.”

“You even kind of sound like her, except you have a faint accent which I can’t seem to place. Where did you grow up?”

“Oh, all over the place actually. I moved a lot as a kid for my father’s work. I’ve for instance lived in Alabama, California and Vermont. I guess it affected my accent,” Abby offered an as explanation, hoping that he would buy it.

“Hmm, I guess so.”

Just then the sunlight hit the top of her head and Marcus noticed a small blonde stain on the skin near her temple. The stain looked remarkably like hair dye.

_Why would someone in her situation bother with such frivolity? Perhaps it was an attempt to disguise herself if her boyfriend decided to come after her?_

Marcus filed that little detail away.

She smelled good too. Why he noticed her smell, he didn’t know. Or perhaps he had an inkling as to why, but he simply didn’t want to acknowledge it. Reaching the motorhome, Marcus opened the the door, “After you milady,” he jested with a bow.

The use of a title startled Abby.

“Milady?”

She lifted her gaze only to be met with a smile which made a warmth settle in her stomach. _Oh no._ What the hell had she agreed to? Not only had she agreed to act like a babysit for two children. Her of all people. But she would also be around him - Marcus Kane - in a small and enclosed space. A guy who had the most intense eyes she had ever encountered and a smile which made her feel things she hadn’t felt in a very long time.

Not that anything could ever happen. But still, she would have to tread carefully.

“It fits,” he commented with a shrug.

Without bothering with a reply Abby slipped inside of the motorhome and she immediately spotted the baby sitting in her car seat. The little girl promptly waved a chubby hand at her, a smile firmly on her face. The sight made Abby’s heart clench so she focused on the rest of the motor home.

Which wasn’t extremely big nor modern but it had all the necessary equipment. There was a small table in front of the ouch where the baby was sitting. The surface of the table was littered with empty bags of cookies, a half-eaten granola, an empty baby bottle and packs of clean diapers. There was also a small kitchen with a fridge, sink, small stove and some cabinets. To her left there was a door which presumably lead to the bathroom and at the end of the motorhome there was a sliding door and Abby caught a glance of rumpled sheets and a double bed.

“Did you get lost?”

Turning her head towards the noise, Abby is faced with the teenage boy and he doesn’t look particularly pleased to find her inside.

“I didn’t actually. I’m hitching a ride with you guys.”

The boy crossed his arms. “No you’re not.”

“Yes she is,” Marcus corrected as he entered the motorhome as well. Which wasn’t easy to do since Abby was still standing close to the doorway. So in order to get in, he put in hand on her lower back and gently moved her three steps forward.

At the brief contact Abby couldn’t help but let out a small gasp.

People didn’t touch her.

Nobody touched the First Lady.

But he couldn’t possibly know that. Couldn’t possibly understand how long it -

“You’re not gonna have sex with her in the same place where my sister and I sleep!” The boy exclaimed, cutting through her inner turmoil.

Abby’s eyes grew wide at the assumption and her cheeks reddened.

“I can assure you that there will be nothing of the sort happening whatsoever,” she firmly stated, much to Marcus’ amusement.

“Ouch. Such a punch to my ego,” he sighed while dramatically clutching his heart before letting himself fall in the driver’s seat. “Happy now Bellamy? Gail is here to help you with your sister.”

After a couple seconds of silence the boy shrugged, ”Fine, you can feed her then. The jars of baby food are in the cabinet above the sink,” he murmured before taking out his ipod and turning his music on.

“Time to earn your transport Gail,” Marcus smirked which earned him a blank look.

He jerked his head towards the baby. “Feed her so we can take off.”

She moved without conscious thought, retrieving a jar from the cabinet as well as a spoon. The boy might have be pretending to occupied with his music but Abby could feel his eyes on her. Setting down next to the baby she felt the familiar dread of being around small child creep in.

Why would she subject herself to this? Did she really want to stay on the run that badly that she was willing to take care of a baby? And a teenager?

Yes, she did.

Determined to see this through Abby opened the jar before starting to feed the baby. The little girl eagerly opened and closed her mouth, lips smacking and gurgling happily when Abby fed her another spoonful.

“What’s her name?” She asked, causing Marcus to chuckle.

“What?” Abby frowned, “What’s so funny about me asking what her name is?”

Marcus merely shook his head so Bellamy took off his headphones.

“Her name’s O.”

“Her name’s a _vowel_?” Abby wondered as she gazed down at the baby who was smiling broadly at her with a tiny speck of food on her left cheek.

“I didn’t name her,” Bellamy muttered as a defense.

When Abby glanced at Marcus, the man merely shrugged, his eyes twinkling.

“I didn’t name her either.”

“You honestly want me to believe her name is O? Come on. What’s her real name?”

“I have absolutely no idea.”

“Wait...I thought you knew their mother? How can you _not_ know her name then?” Abby pressed but instead of replying, Marcus stuck the key in the ignition.

“He didn’t know she existed until yesterday,” the boy explained, “And if I were you Kane, I wouldn’t take off just yet. She’ll need another 30 min for her food to settle.”

Marcus huffed, but didn’t turn the engine on. “We’re never gonna arrive in Iowa at this rate.”

“Hold on. What do you mean he didn’t know your sister existed until yesterday?”

The boy rolled his eyes. “My mother died and for some reason she decided to appoint Kane as our guardian. He knew her years back even before I was born, but that’s all.”

Abby didn’t know how to respond to that. Especially since the boy seemed almost indifferent to his mother’s death. “I’m sorry,” she offered anyway, fully knowing how empty those words were.

Bellamy shrugged. “Don’t be. I’m already over it. Hey Kane, turn on the air conditioning.”

“Would it kill you to use the word please?”

“Yes.”

“Then no air conditioning.”

“But it’s hot in here.”

“You think so? I find the temperature just perfect.”

“Bullshit.”

“What did I tell you about language?“ Marcus exclaimed, feeling his patience running low.

“Don’t care about that. It’s too goddamn hot in here,” Bellamy threw back.

“You know what,” Marcus started as he got up from his seat and removing the key from the ignition, “I’m going to go for a walk. You deal with the heat. Crack open a window or something, I’ll be back in back in half an hour,” he announced before leaving the motorhome and throwing the door shut.

“What an ass,” Bellamy grumbled.

“I’m not necessarily disagreeing, but now you still don’t have air conditioning,” Abby replied.

“Don’t care.”

“Oh really? Why did you insist on having it turned on then?” She asked but there came no reply, he merely put his headphones back on so she turned her attention back on the baby.

Who had managed to spread food all over her face and hands. Looking extremely adorable. But also messy.

“Where do you keep your towels? Or napkins?”

No reply came.

With a sigh Abby got up and started to search the cabinets. It didn’t take long before she found some wet wipes. Removing them from a cabinet she settled down again next to the baby and wiped the food from her cheeks. She tried to ignore the baby’s toothy grin, she really did but in the end Abby couldn’t suppress a small smile.

“It’s best if you take her out of the car seat and let her crawl around. That’ll make her digest the food faster,” The boy suggested.

“Ah yes, Marcus did mention that she had a weak stomach.”

“Oh it’s already Marcus is it?”

“Well that _is_ his name. Do you always call him Kane then?”

“Yeah. He didn’t appreciate me calling him dad.”

Abby snorts, “I can imagine. Where am I supposed to let her crawl?”

“On the floor where else? There’s a rug isn’t there?”

Abby glanced down, the rug didn’t look particularly hygienic but there wasn’t really an alternative available. It’s not like she could let the baby crawl outside on the tarmac.

“Hand me that blanket.”

“She won’t stay on it.”

“Just give it to me.”

The boy huffed and grumbled but he still got up from his position on the couch and passed her the blanket which Abby promptly placed on the floor.

 _Please don't get sick_. She prayed while getting the baby out of her seat and putting her on it.

The girl immediately started to crawl forward.

“I’ll give it 5 seconds and then she’s off.”

And sure enough the girl moved off blanket and then put her weight on her chubby hands until she was in an upright position.

“Told you.”

“You’re quite the know-it-all where your sister’s concerned aren’t you?”

“Well I have been basically been raising her since the day she born so yeah, I am.”

“Well you’ve done a great job so far.”

“There’s no need to suck up to me. That won’t score you any points with Kane.”

“That’s not what I’m doing, I don’t want to _score_ points with anyone. I’m being sincere, you’ve done an amazing job with your sister.”

Abby could tell that the boy didn’t know how to properly respond to that. Just as she reached down to put the girl back on the blanket he murmured a soft _thanks._

“So what is her real name?”

“O”

“I’m not going to call her O.”

“Then how will she possibly know that you’re talking to her?”  

“We could get give her a nickname,” Abby proposed and that got his attention ‘cause he shifted in his seat before leaning closer.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. How about Jane?”

“Not very original.”

“You got a better idea?” Abby quipped back and just as she expected there came no reply.

“Didn’t think so. What about Julie?”

“That’s an old woman’s name.”

“Lara?”

“You want to name my sister after a water nymph who got her tongue removed for being overly talkative?” Bellamy asked with wide eyes.

He was met with a blank stare, causing him to shrug, feeling a bit self-conscious. “I used to sneak into our local library and there were a bunch books on Greek & Roman mythology,” he offered an as explanation.

“Well how about we pick a name from that period then?” Abby enthusiastically proposed.

“You know Greek and Roman mythology?” Bellamy exclaimed looking slightly sceptical.

Oh if he only knew how many hours she had spent pouring over history books. Or the trips she had taken to both Italy and Greece.

“It’s been a while, but I do remember some things. How about we make a list? We’ll write down all the names we remember and see which one we both like? Or which one fits your sister the best?”

“Sure,” Bellamy muttered. He tried to act casual but Abby could see a spark of interest in his eyes.

Twenty minutes and two lists later, one name remained.

_Octavia_

“I think we found our name,” Abby declared with a small smile, one which Bellamy reciprocated.

“Yeah we do.”

Just then Marcus entered the motorhome, still looking a bit grumpy.

Bellamy immediately retreated and put his headphones back on.

Without saying anything Marcus sat down behind the wheel and started the car. Sighing, Abby picked the baby up before putting her back in the car seat. It wasn’t safe to have her crawling around while they were on the road.

* * *

“Please tell me that it’s simply my imagination and the engine’s noises aren’t getting worse,” Abby asked from the passenger seat while continuing to read her book.

It’s the first thing anyone has said since they had started driving three hours ago.

“Sorry to burst your bubble but they definitely are.”

“When was the last time this thing had a check up?”

“No idea. But I’m guessing dinosaurs were still alive.” He deadpanned which earned him a snort.

The next couple of minutes passed in silence until Bellamy spoke up, “I think we should stop. Go to a mall or something.”

Abby glanced outside and the only thing surrounding the road were fields. “I don’t think there’s a mall around here. Or anything expect fields for that matter.”

“Perhaps not _exactly_ here but there’s gotta be something nearby.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“Well I don’t care ab-“

“Stop arguing you two. O finally fell asleep. Let’s keep it that way,” Marcus interrupted them.

“Octavia,” Abby stated.

Confused Marcus slightly turned his head. “Who’s Octavia?”

“The baby. Bellamy and I decided that’s her name now.”

“Oh. Wasn’t she a Roman Empress?” He inquired.

“She was,” Abby replied, looking faintly surprised that he would know such a thing.

Bellamy cleared his throat, “Uhm so when are we going to stop?”

“I told you, I don’t think there’s a mall nearby,” Abby interjected once more.

“I honestly don’t care about a mall. At this state I’ll be happy with a truck stop or gas station. I just really need to pee.”

“I already told you that if you want to be able to pee while I’m driving you’ll have to clean the bathroom,” Marcus stated.

“I’m not cleaning that disaster zone,” the boy retorted and in response Marcus glanced at his passenger, causing Abby to raise an eyebrow.

“Don’t look at me. I’m not your cleaning lady. You asked me to look after the kids, you didn’t say anything about cleaning,” she stated, eliciting a chuckle from Bellamy and she gave the boy a wink, at which Marcus rolled his eyes.

“Great. I leave you guys alone for 30 minutes and you’re already ganging up against me,” he muttered.

“What can I say, I’m extremely likeable,” Abby said in a sing-along voice which made Bellamy laugh even louder.

“If you say so. Bellamy please sit down and strap yourself in. Those things are there for a reason.”

The boy muttered but he did sat down and Abby watched him do so.

“Bellamy doesn’t seem to be too shaken up about his mother’s death,” she softly uttered.  

Marcus hummed, “No, I don’t think Aurora was a very reliable mother figure.”

“What about his and Octavia’s father? Where’s he?”

“Different dads,” Marcus revealed, “Bellamy’s was a guy she picked up at some bar while the baby’s dad died in the car crash as well.”

“That must have been hard.”

“Yeah, but the kid’s a fighter. He still took care of his sister even though he could have  easily dropped her off somewhere,” he stated and Abby could hear a flicker of admiration in his voice.

“So what do you do when you aren’t driving children you barely know across the country?” She questioned turning the conversation to a somewhat lighter tone.

Marcus hesitated. When he had first started out as a journalist he eagerly enough announced what he did for a living. But after having worked for a gossip paper, not so much.

“I’m a bartender,” he announced, noticing the look of surprise on Gail’s face.

“You have a problem with that?”

“Wait? No, of course not. It’s just - I would have never guessed that.”

“Really? What then?” He couldn’t help but ask out of curiosity.

“I don’t know. A teacher perhaps?

 _Teacher_? Well he certainly didn’t expect that.

“I’m certain you’re supposed to _like_ children to become a teacher,” he joked. “What about you?”

“Me? Oh I - uhm, well I’m currently without a job for obvious reasons,” she pointed at her stomach, “but I worked as a secretary.”

“Hmm.”

A comfortable silence falls between them as Marcus refocused his attention on the road and Abby on her book. And yet neither of them could shake the feeling that the other had lied about their job.

* * *

“Gentlemen please tell me that you are more knowledgeable about the First Lady’s whereabouts than when I spoke to you three hours ago,” The President announced as he entered the Oval Office and settled down behind his desk.

Jacopo Sinclair, the head of the CIA, took a step forward, “The Pennsylvania State Police pulled over a brown 2010 model Chevrolet for speeding. Neither the driver or his girlfriend had the proper paperwork with them. After calling dispatch the police found out that the car was registered to a Zoe Johnson and the plates could be traced back to a car dealership in Maryland. The owner of the dealership described the person who bought the car as an elderly caucasian woman with remarkably smooth skin, who had been very eager to buy a car as soon as possible. As far as we know there’s nobody named Zoe Johnson who fits that exact description.”

“But you don’t know for certain that it’s Mrs. Griffin and not some random caucasian woman in need of a car and who used an alias,” James Anderson, the President’s Chief advisor uttered.

“No, but we’re still checking our databases and following up all leads so far, however small. We _do_ know that Mrs. Griffin used some kind of disguise to get out of the White House and the state,” Sinclair explained.

“Let’s not forget that these are all still assumptions,” Senator Walters intervened, “I’m still not entirely convinced she wasn’t coerced to leave.”

Sinclair felt a twinge of sympathy as he observed the Senator pouring himself a drink. He’d known the man for several years now and this was the second time he’d seen the Senator this shaken. The first time had been at his wife’s funeral eight years ago.

“Michael, you read the letter. She explained in length _why_ she was leaving and she made it very clear that she went on her own volition,” the President calmly said, causing  the Senator to tense up and turn towards him.

“You and I both know that those weren’t the _only_ reasons,” the older man stated, his voice carrying a tone of accusation.

“Mic-“

“We caused this. We’re _responsible._ If we hadn’t - ,” the Senator continued, only to be swiftly cut off.

“That’ll be enough Senator Walters,” the President snapped, the use of the other man’s title didn’t go unnoticed by anyone.

The tension between the two men was palpable to the others in the room.

“Forgive me for asking Sir, but why would the Senator feel responsible for the First Lady’s disappearance? Are there other reasons for her leaving which haven’t been fully disclosed?” Eric Stevens, the head of the Secret Service inquired after a couple of seconds.

“Everything relevant to the case has been discussed. I fear that the Senator is extremely worried for his daughter’s safety and perhaps feels guilty for not picking up on her plan to leave the White House. Aren’t you Senator?”

“Yes. Yes, that’s exactly it,” the older man uttered while taking another sip of his drink.

“Good. Now Stevens, do you have any idea how the First Lady managed to slip past not only the cameras but also your numerous agents?” The President asked.

The man in question straightened his back before clearing his throat. “She would have in all likelihood worn a disguise before leaving the White House while acting and pretending to be a tourist.”

“What kind of disguise?”

“That of an elderly lady Sir,” Sinclair offered as a reply.

“You can’t be in earnest. You honestly believe that Mrs. Griffin _disguised_ herself as an old lady, joined some tourists who were getting a tour, then left the White House and Washington? Not to forget that according to you she somehow managed to buy a car? Without having a license? Or another form of identification? Besides can she even drive? I sincerely hope that that’s not the only thing you can come up with Sinclair. And if it is, I do hope you have some solid evidence which backs up that theory of yours?” The President exclaimed, the disbelief and annoyance were clear on his face.

“Forgive me Sir, but unfortunately it’s not that difficult to buy a car without showing the proper identification. Carrying enough cash is for some car dealers more than enough. And the First Lady most certainly knows how to drive. As for evidence, when the State Police pulled the Chevrolet over, they found 10.000 dollars stashed in the trunk. They also found a bag filled with woman’s clothing, a pair of shoes, a fanny pack and a grey wig,” Sinclair informed them, showing both men pictures of the car, of the envelope filled with cash and the bag with clothes and shoes.

“Good god,” Senator Walters exclaimed as he gazed at the pictures, looking extremely pale. He had a firm grip on his glass of bourbon.

“There might not be a connection Sir but we do have to follow through every lead,” Stevens added. “We’re currently going through all of yesterday morning’s security, paying special attention to elderly women.”

Both the President and the Senator looked alarmed.

“I’d also like to stress that so far there was no evidence of violence whatsoever. The people who stole the car swore that the keys were still in the ignition when they spotted the Chevrolet. One of them had seen a lady exiting the vehicle and making her way towards the diner, which she had entered. We have no reason to assume that they’re lying. Or that they harmed her. The car is headed to the agency’s lab as we speak,” Sinclair stated and Stevens nodded in agreement.

“What did State Police tell the owner of dealership?” Anderson inquired.

“That the vehicle had been stolen and that they were trying to find Zoe Johnson to return the car to her.”

“And he bought that?”

“He did. He had absolutely no reason for not believing the police’s explanation.”

Anderson sighed, “That’s good. We’ve gotten lucky so far with keeping the First Lady’s disappearance out of the papers, but let’s be honest here, Miss Cartwig’s fabrication of the First Lady having the flu will only buy us a limited period of time. We’re not going to be able to keep this quiet for much longer.”

“We have to keep it quiet. The press would have a field day if they found out about Mrs. Griffin leaving. Just imagine the backlash it could have on our administration. A single woman managed to outsmart her security detail, the Secret Service and bypass all the cameras? We’ll be mocked. Laughed at,” the President insisted. “I can already see the headlines;

_The Jaha administration is in such a dire state that even the First Lady doesn’t want to stick around._

“You’re concerned about scathing articles? And about damage control? What about the possible danger those articles can put Abigail in? What if extremists or other groups find out that she’s somewhere on her own? And what if they find her? Who knows what will happen or what they’ll do to her. This is my daughter we’re talking about Thelonious. An actual person. You can’t handle this like you'd handle bad poll ratings,” Senator Walters erupted, taking everyone else in the room - including the President - by surprise.

After a couple of tension filled seconds, the President broke the silence with a solemn nod. “You’re absolutely right and I do apologize Michael. Of course I’m concerned about Abigail’s safety too,” he said, trying to appease the Senator.

“Stevens, I assume you’ve already sent agents to Maryland?”

“Yes Sir. There are also two agents on their way to the truck stop where the couple stole the car,” Stevens informed.

“That’s a start. But it’s not enough gentlemen. I want to set up a temporarily special task force whose sole purpose is to find Mrs. Griffin swiftly and discretely before bringing her back to the White House. The task force will be assembled from both organisations’ best agents. I expect full cooperation between the CIA and Secret Service,” the President exclaimed while gazing intently at the directors in question.

“Sir, are you -”

“Sir, I don’t -”

Jaha raised his hand, effectively silencing both men. “I didn’t ask for your input on this, I’ve already made the decision. You’ll do exactly as I say and set up the task force as soon as possible. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes sir.”

“Yes sir”

“Good,” Thelonious murmured, “Now I suggest you two get started right away. Because I can promise you one thing gentlemen, if Mrs. Griffin isn’t safely returned by Friday some people in this room are going to be without a job.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and or kudos are much appreciated


	5. Let's have a picnic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES, I STILL MADE THE "UPDATE ONCE A MONTH" DEADLINE! ^^ Work has been super stressful and like a lot so I'm really relieved that I finished this chapter this month. 
> 
> The story is slowly starting to come along. Everyone is starting to get to know each other (or so they think). This chapter is simply about two adults with absolutely no experience with taking care of children, being responsible for a grumpy teenager and his babbling baby sister. All the while they’re trying to suppress any attraction they feel for each other.
> 
> There will be also a mention of infertility and brief talk about abuse (even though it's a hypothetical situation I just wanted to let you guys knows).

Marcus awoke to a tugging sensation and as he opened his eyes, he looked - from his horizontal position on the couch - right into a pair of grey eyes.

“Gail, the baby is on the loose,” he muttered after blinking a couple of times, trying to wake up completely, but hopelessly failing while being on the receiving end of a big toothy grin.

“Don’t you mean Octavia?”

The question was calmly phrased, which caused him to roll his eyes. Both Gail and Bellamy had insisted on calling the baby by the nickname they had picked out while he had been out. And the little girl seemed to like her new name as well. She already smiled whenever someone referred to her as Octavia. And if he was being honest, only to himself, it was a huge improvement from _O._

“ _Fine._ Octavia is on the loose,” he repeated and he just managed to keep the exasperation out of his voice.

“Hmm, I know.”

“And?”

“And what?” She was quick to counter and he tried his best not to snap at her. He really did.

“So do your job. Take care of her.”

….Alright so he hadn’t entirely succeeded in that regard, but at least he had tried. That had to count for something. Right? Besides, he had just woken up. What did she honestly expect?

His remark was met with a heavy sigh - she obviously didn’t share his current strategy of at least attempting to be more polite or considerate to other people’s feelings - and some shuffling, presumably placing her book on the dashboard. “I have, as you ever so kindly worded, done my _job._ While you were dead to the world, I not only washed her but also changed her diaper, played a game with her and basically baby proofed Mabel the best I could. I made sure Octavia can’t hurt herself on any sharp edges, isn’t able of putting stuff in her mouth or even pull things on top of her. Besides a little bit of exercise will do her good. Especially since I fed her some formula earlier,” she explained before picking her book back up.

_Ah._

1-0 for Gail.

“Ma?”

The soft murmuring caused Marcus to return his focus on the baby, who was still sitting in front of him.

“Ma?” She repeated with wide eyes.

“Wrong person kid,” he retorted while moving his legs from the couch, carefully avoiding Octavia. As he stretched, his neck cracked causing him to wince at the sound. He really was getting too old to sleep on an ancient and too small couch.

“Da?” The girl tried again and his heart nearly stopped in terror. _Fuck no._

“Not your dad either kiddo.”

Running his hand through his hair, Marcus crossed the short distance between the couch and the kitchen, where he spotted some coffee in the pot. Presumably made by Gail, because even though Bellamy might like to pretend that he’s older, the boy didn’t strike him the kind of kid who drank coffee. So that only left Gail, although - Marcus frowned - should she even be drinking coffee while being pregnant?

He shrugged, that was definitely _not_ his problem. At this point, he was simply grateful that there was still some coffee left. Filling a cup, Marcus couldn’t spot Bellamy right away, but Gail was sitting in the passenger seat, still completely engrossed in the book they had picked up on the previous truck stop. As he took a sip from his coffee, he couldn’t help but quietly observe her. She was curled into her seat, with her legs dangling from the side and the book resting on her stomach. She had a look of utmost concentration on her face and his gaze was drawn to the way she was biting down on her lower lip. The way the sun shone down on her face gave her an almost ethereal look.

_What the hell?_

Marcus shook his head before taking another sip of coffee. He was losing it, that was the only plausible explanation. The sleep deprivation and being stuck with those two kids didn’t help either. Those months working for that tabloid had messed with his brain, leaving behind clichés and overly sappy proclamations. Yes, that must be it, he tried to reassure himself. Gail didn’t look _ethereal_ at all. Nope. She looked like your average pregnant woman who wore cheap and baggy clothes.

That was all.

He had absolutely no time whatsoever for this whole _ethereal_ nonsense. He barely even knew the woman. And Marcus sincerely hoped that in four days he would be able to drop off both the Blake siblings and her before returning to his _own_ child-free life.

“Where’s the boy?” He muttered, not too politely, which earned him a snort and a sarcastic reply.

“Good afternoon to you too. Did you sleep okay?”

Gail posed the question while closing her book and turning her head towards him and at the look, she threw him he almost felt chastened. _Almost_.

“I did as a matter of fact.”

“How absolutely wonderful,” she quipped back and Marcus narrowed his eyes at her obviously condescending tone.

But before he could open his mouth and snap something back, a gurgling sound captured both his and Gail’s attention. They watched how Octavia crawled towards them while the girl happily muttered something unintelligible. Soon enough she came to a stop in front of him and she wrapped her fingers into the fabric of his jeans before tugging on them.

“Da. Da. Da,” the girl chanted.

His dismay at being called da _again_ must have shown on his face because Gail bursted out in laughter. “Oh my god, your face. You look like you’re being forced to change her diaper,’” she managed to say between giggles.

Marcus didn’t care for the way his heart lurched at the sound of her laughter. Didn’t care for it at all. So he dealt with it the only way he knew. By lashing out. “I didn’t ask you to come along for your sense of humour so please, no need to even try,” he declared and all signs of amusement disappeared from Gail’s face.

_God, he was an ass._

Before even more hurtful comments could be made, the door of Mabel opened and Bellamy stumbled in, looking slightly annoyed.

“That’s the last time I’m peeing behind a bush. I think I got a rash or something,” the boy muttered with a grimace.

“Well, the offer to clean the bathroom still stands,” Marcus retorted.

“I already told you, that’s not going to happen,” Bellamy declared before letting himself fall on the couch.

“Da. Da. Da,” Octavia continued to chant causing the boy to chuckle and Gail couldn’t help but smile again.

“Try jerk Octavia. Can you say jerk?” The teenager asked his baby sister and Gail giggled at the affronted look on Marcus’ face.

“How mature of you,” Marcus mumbled under his breath and with another giggle Gail rose from her seat and picked the baby up before settling her down in her seat and strapping her in.

“So where are we going to go for dinner?” Bellamy inquired while scrolling through his phone.

“Dinner? It’s barely six.”

“So? I’m hungry,” the teenager retorted with a shrug. “You might remember from when you were a teenager, you know literally during the previous century, but we require a lot of food.”

“Well have some chips. Or a granola bar. We still have a long way to go until we get to your grandmother’s place,” Marcus explained while tactfully ignoring the dig at his age.

Gail interjected, “That’s not food. You can’t expect him, and us for that matter, to survive on stuff like chips and granola bars.”  

Bellamy threw him a smirk which clearly said _listen to the pregnant lady._

“Listen here, I-"

“If you want me to take care of the children I insist on getting them actual and nutritious food,” Gail was quick to cut him off.

_2-0 Gail._

Not that he was counting.

“Fine. I guess I’ll take on the job of the driver then?”

“By all means.”

“Alright. Any special requests?” He asked while getting behind the wheel and turning the ignition on.

“How about we try a place where our shoes don’t stick to the floor?” Gail proposed as she settled down next to her, Bellamy muttering a _yes please_ in the back.

“Why? Is that beneath Milady?” Marcus couldn’t help but teasingly ask.

“What is it with your insistence of calling me Milady?” She inquired, sounding confused.

“What? You don’t like it?” He retorted, sneaking a brief glance sideways but she had turned her head towards the side window so he couldn’t gauge the expression on her face.

“My name’s Gail. I don’t see why you can’t simply use that instead of referring to me as Milady,” she muttered back.

_Ah, this was exactly the opening he had been waiting for._

“Is it though?” He questioned and even from his peripheral view, he noticed the way her body stiffened and how she swiftly turned her head into his direction.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Marcus shrugged while keeping his gaze on the road. “Perhaps you gave me an alias.”

“And why on earth would I possibly do that?”

“To make sure that if your boyfriend decided to track your moves neither I nor Bellamy could provide any accurate information.”

“Oh right, _my boyfriend,_ ” she muttered in such a manner it gave Marcus the impression that she had completely forgotten about said boyfriend. Which raised even more questions if he was being honest.

“Yes, _him.”_

“Well, I appreciate your concern, but I haven’t. Given you an alias I mean. My name’s Gail,” she added.

“Hmm.”

He didn’t quite believe her, there were too many things which didn’t add up. The accent she forgot to use 85% of the time. Her slight hesitation when she first told him her supposed name. The fact that she was obviously well educated. How she held her cutlery. Honestly, who used a _fork_ while eating fries? But Marcus decided to let it go. At least for now.

“Oh look. Those people are having a picnic,” Gail exclaimed a while later as she pointed towards a family who was sitting down on a nearby field, sounding all excited. Going on an actual picnic has always been something she had wanted to do, even as a small girl. And by picnic she didn’t mean the ones she has had during her life, where she had been surrounded by at least six security officers while sitting on _chairs,_ using plates and real glasses. No, she wanted paper plates, plastic cups while actually sitting down on the grass.

“I know what we can do for dinner. We can go to a store and buy sandwiches, some vegetables, those sausages used for hot dogs, some ketchup and perhaps even mustard and we can have a picnic,” she proposed with a broad smile on her face, eyes twinkling with delight and she barely restrained herself from clapping her hands in delight at the idea of finally going on a picnic.

The sight of her smile was captivating enough to momentarily distract Marcus from the road.

“Picnics are lame,” Bellamy interjected, “I rather eat those granola bars than to go on a _picnic_ with you guys.”

The teenager’s less than enthusiastic remark dimmed the twinkle in Gail’s eyes. A development which didn’t go unnoticed by Marcus.

To his utter dismay.

Before he could even think twice he turned on his right indicator and took the first exit where a sign stood claiming a nearby Walmart and a small park only three miles away.

“Been on many picnics have you?” He threw back at Bellamy.

“No, but -"

“Then how could you possibly know that they’re _lame_?” Marcus pressed, cutting the boy off and to his amusement there came no reply.

 _Excellent_.

“Well then, it looks like we’re going to have a picnic for dinner,” he exclaimed, his tone resolute.

The brilliant smile Gail threw at him had no effect on him whatsoever. None at all. The only reason why he agreed with having a picnic was the fact that he wasn’t too keen on eating a granola bar or chips for dinner either.

Twenty minutes later they had arrived and Marcus just reversed Mabel into a parking spot.

“Alright let’s move people.”

A couple minutes and two grumpy children later - Octavia for being woken up and Bellamy for, well grumpy seemed to be his default mood - they were all standing next to Mabel with Octavia already placed in a trolley.

“Are we seriously going to do this?” Bellamy couldn’t help but incredulously ask, sounding exasperated with both adults like only teenagers could.

“We seriously are,” Marcus countered.

“Brilliant,” came the boy’s sarcastic reply.

“I do apologise for interrupting this bout of delightful banter but shouldn’t we be making a list or something?” Gail suggested and she was met by identical blank stares, causing her to fidget.

“What? If we already know what we’re going to buy then we don’t have to run through every aisle. Much more efficient and less time consuming,” she pointed out.

“That’s ...actually not a bad idea,” Marcus had to admit.

“Sure you go and take her side,” Bellamy muttered while staring at the ground as he kicked a small stone away.

“You know I was going to write down those sweets you liked from our previous stop, but now I’m not too sure if I even want to add them to the list,” Gail stated, her tone matter-of-factly.

At the look of surprise on Bellamy’s face, Marcus couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I don’t-,” the boy started to reply but he fell silent when Gail raised a single eyebrow.

Which Marcus had to admit, was impressive _and_ amusing.  

“Alright, alright. A picnic sounds acceptable,” the boy begrudgingly muttered.

“Thank you,” she replied with a wide smile before taking out a piece of paper and a pen from her bag.

“So what’s first on the list?”

“Beer,” came as an immediate reply.

“You’re not going to drink beer, Bellamy. You’re barely 14,” Marcus stated with a frown.

_Honestly, did that boy truly believe that he would be allowed to drink alcohol? Whatever had Aurora allowed him to do all these years?_

“So?”

“So? I don’t think I have to explain myself any further. I’m the adult here and I’m telling you no beer,” Marcus rebutted.

“Why do you care? You’re not my father,” Bellamy exclaimed with his arms crossed across his chest

“Thank god for small mercies,” Marcus softly declared.

“Ha. And you call yourself an adult,” the teenager scoffed.

Abby could feel that a new shouting match wasn’t too far off. Especially as she observed both their tense postures.

“Okay, let’s not make a scene in front of a Walmart, shall we? Let’s forget about the list. How about you - she pointed at Marcus - are in charge of the vegetables, drinks and sauces while you - pointed at Bellamy - can grab some cereal for tomorrow, a tub of ice cream and soda if you want, while I’ll do the sandwiches, sausages, and food for Octavia,” Abby announced, “Deal?”

Before even giving the men a chance to reply she started to push the trolley with the baby in and moved towards the entrance. “Great, let’s go then.”

She could hear some muttering behind her but soon enough both Marcus and Bellamy followed.

 _Boys_ , she thought with a shake of her head.

In the store, they split ways but it didn’t take long before they all found what they were looking for. As Gail took the lead, pushing the trolley with Octavia babbling to her, and the boy trailing not far behind Marcus couldn’t help but think - just for a brief second - how he ended up in this place, doing something so utterly _domestic_ as going grocery shopping.

Arriving at the cash register Abby moved her hand into her bag only to freeze before sneaking a glance at Marcus, who had noticed the action.

“Yes?” He asked, fully knowing why she froze. She didn’t have any money after all.

“Could you?”

“Could I what?” He pressed, a small smirk appearing on his face when she narrowed her eyes in annoyance.

“Are you seriously going to make me say it?”

“Say what precisely?” Marcus smirked while crossing his arms.

She huffed in response, “Can you please pay for the groceries?”

“Well since you asked so nicely, how could I possibly refuse?” He replied, causing her to roll her eyes.

This was already going to be a problem, Abby thought. She hated not being able to pay for the food herself. The whole point of getting away from the White House, of stepping away from her persona as the First Lady, was to do things herself. And now, almost two days later she was already depending on someone else. But what was she supposed to do? It’s not like she could have brought credit cards with her. They would have tracked her down in mere _minutes_ if she had used a card. She simply needed to find a way to get some cash without blowing her cover. Perhaps she could get Callie to wire some money, even though the odds of the Secret Service - and who knows which other agencies - tapping the lines were high. It was just a risk she had to take, she couldn’t continue spending other people’s money.

“You’ve got such a lovely family,” the elderly lady behind the register mentioned, dragging Abby out of her reverie.

Before Marcus could deny anything she slipped her arm through his and gave it a soft squeeze. ”Oh, he knows that don’t you sweetie pie?” she said in a sing-a-long voice while batting her eyelashes in an overly exaggerated manner causing Bellamy to snort behind him.

Marcus could feel his cheeks redden and without offering a reply he put his card back into his wallet before slipping her arm from between his and taking control of the trolley with the groceries. As he moved towards the exit, leaving Gail and Bellamy behind, he ignored their laughter.

“How the hell did I end up in this situation?” He muttered to himself, eliciting some unintelligible noises – which could be interpreted as words if you really tried - from Octavia in response.

“I have no idea what that was supposed to mean but that sounds about right yes,” he said with a small nod, causing the girl to flash him another of her toothy grins.

Which he didn’t find even a little bit cute.

Absolutely not.

* * *

After putting some of the groceries away in the motorhome, Gail gathered a blanket, Octavia’s bag, and some napkins before they all started to walk towards the small park near the Walmart.  As they tried to find a free spot on the grass she caught Marcus looking almost longingly at a table to their right, which was mostly hidden behind a couple of trees.

“Not a chance. You’re sitting with us,” Gail stated with a smirk and a nudge to his side, which startled him.

“How did you even -”

“You’ve been staring at that table for the past couple of minutes and you just muttered _I simply need some peace and quiet_ under your breath. I merely connected the two,” she clarified.

“Well, aren’t you clever?”

“Why thank you for recognizing that,” she replied, eliciting a huff from the man walking next to her.

“You do realise that you can’t force me to eat with you guys right? You’re supposed to look after the kids, not me,” he replied.

“You sure? Because I sometimes feel like I’m traveling with three instead of two children,” she quipped back and to her surprise, a bark of laughter escaped Marcus’ lips.

“Witty.”

“Thank you. Besides, what if I told you that if you ate with us, there might be a prize in the form of a bottle of whiskey in it for you,” she offered with a small smile.

He never thought she would suggest something like that. That woman sure knew how to drive a hard bargain. Raising an eyebrow, he answered, “Are you blackmailing me with alcohol Miss Turner?”

“That depends. Is it working?”

Marcus pretended to think it over for a second before throwing her a smile, “Absolutely. How did you know that I liked whiskey?”

She shrugged, “I didn’t. You just look like the kind of guy who likes that stuff.”

“Oh, I do? What else do I look like?” he asked while leaning closer. His close proximity and that little quirk of his lips caused a warmth to settle in the pit of her stomach.  

“Trouble,” she muttered before quickly pushing past him and towards the siblings, keeping her eyes averted. Her cheeks were burning from admitting such a thing.

 _Why the hell did she say that? Was she insane?_ Abby simply hoped that he hadn’t noticed her flushed cheeks when she had brushed past him.

He had.

* * *

Soon enough they found a spot free of other people. Gail immediately laid the blanket down so Bellamy could put his sister on it.

“Why don’t you hand Octavia her bottle while I make us all some sandwiches?” She proposed and the boy gave her a small nod.

Deciding that they got everything handled Marcus took out a cigarette before lighting it up and inhaling deeply. He did, however, do it at a respectable distance from Gail and Octavia.

A couple of minutes and two cigarettes later he returned just as Gail finished making some sandwiches.

“Looks like you got excellent timing,” she mentioned as he sat down at which he offered a smile.

Dinner was a quiet affair since they were all hungrier than initially thought. The only sounds were those of soft murmurs from other people at the park, of birds and Octavia making noises and babbling happily.

That is until an unpleasant smell filled the air, causing Gail to wrinkle her nose.

“Octavia, did you just poop?” she asked, but the girl merely giggled in response.

“I take that as a yes. Come on, let’s got and put on a clean diaper,” she stated while standing up and gathering the girl in her arms before letting her rest against her hip.

“We’ll be right back. Wave goodbye to Bellamy and Marcus.”

The girl gave them a small wave before Gail started to walk towards the little public toilet the park had.

They had barely left when Bellamy shuffled until he was sitting next to Marcus.

“Could you be any less subtle?”

Both the question and the boy’s decision to sit so close to him took him by surprise.

“What do you mean?” Marcus asked, making Bellamy throw him a look which clearly said se _riously_?  

“The way you stare at Gail.”

“And how exactly do I _stare_ at her?”

“Like you would prefer her with fewer clothes on.”

_What?! Where did that come from? He didn’t stare at Gail like that._

_…. Well, not often_

_... Damn_

“How the hell would you know anything about that? You’re 14,” Marcus managed to get out after a couple of seconds. He was still in the midst of processing his remark.

“You do remember who my mother was right?” The boy scoffed and at the mention of Aurora, Marcus couldn’t help but grimace.

“Bellamy listen, I know that we don’t really know each other and I hadn’t seen your mother in years before she passed away but if you ever want to talk about her then –”

“I won’t,” the boy was quick to interrupt.

“Alright, but if you _do_ , know that I’m here,” Marcus finished.

For a second he debated whether he should put a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder, but in the end, he decided against it.

“Right. For the next three or four days perhaps and then you’ll just dump me and my sister with our grandmother and disappear. It has happened before you know. Some guy would show up promising to take care of me and later my sister, but they always left. And when they did, they never bothered to get in touch with me ever again. They simply walked away. So why would you be any different?”

Marcus had no idea how to reply to the boy’s declaration.

Because ultimately Bellamy was right. His plan was to drop them off and return to his own life. He wasn’t interested in playing a major or _any_ role for that matter in the siblings’ lives after arriving in Iowa. But as the boy was reminiscing Marcus had felt a surge of anger at the mention of those men who had dropped out of his life, not even bothering with checking up on him.

Ultimately though, he wasn’t any better than those guys Aurora had brought home. He couldn’t promise a happy ending since he was going to walk away as well.

“Bellamy I-” he started, but the boy cut him off.

“Don’t bother. I don’t need your lies. You know what, I’m going to go for a walk,” the boy said while getting up.

“Something wrong?” Gail asked as she returned with Octavia from a quick diaper change.

Bellamy shook his head. “Just need to stretch my legs a little bit.”

“Alright, just don’t go too far and take another sandwich with you,” Gail replied and to Marcus’ surprise the boy immediately accepted the offered food and he could even spot a small smile on the teenager’s face.

“So what actually happened?” Gail pressed as she watched Bellamy walk away. She settled down next to him on the blanket while placing the baby in front of her.

“That obvious?”

“Hmm. He doesn’t look like the type of boy who goes for walks.”

Marcus didn’t know how to properly explain what Bellamy told him earlier. Finally, he simply offered, “I don’t think he’s completely over his mother’s death,” as an explanation.

“Well, that’s not surprising, is it? How could he be? I doubt he even had the time to mourn since he had to take care of his sister,” Gail replied with a frown.

“Exactly,” Marcus agreed, “But I’m sure he’ll feel a bit better after a short walk.”

“I sure hope so.”

They continued to eat in silence and it didn’t take long before Bellamy showed up again. With a brief glance at his watch, Marcus rose from his position on the blanket, “Let’s go. We still have some time before it turns completely dark.”

“But the kids just ate,” Gail retorted even though she got up as well.  

“I’ll take my chances,” he stated before gathering some of their trash and moving towards the motorhome.

Sighing, she picked the baby up and started to follow Marcus with Bellamy not too far behind.

Forty-five minutes -  and being throw upon twice - later Gail wished she had insisted on waiting longer before hitting the road again.

“Bellamy please put your sister in her seat,” she sighed while trying to get a stain out of her shirt.

“Isn’t that your –” the boy started to mutter, but he quickly complied when he noticed the glare she threw at him.

“We are not going to drive all night long,” she stated while settling down in the passenger’s seat.

“I fail to see how you get a say in this.”

“Oh really? Because between the two of us, I’m the one who has to not only clean up the vomit but who also has to deal with the crying. So yeah, I do have a say in this and I’m telling you, we’re going to stop somewhere and sleep.”

She could tell by the way he was gripping the steering wheel – his fingers were turning white – that he didn’t agree and was probably getting ready to say something scathing. And since Abby wasn’t in the mood to argue she reached over and put a hand on his arm, hoping to appease him.

“Marcus please, I know that you want to make it to Iowa as soon as possible, but think this through. Driving in the complete dark is dangerous and you know that Octavia won’t be able to sleep properly while Mabel’s moving. Which means that neither Bellamy or I will get much sleep either so you'll be surrounded by not one, but three sleep deprived and irritated people in the morning. Besides you need your sleep as well, those two hours earlier today don’t count.”

After a minute of a rather tense silence, she could feel him relax in his seat before giving her a small nod.

“Fine. Why don’t you look for the nearest campground on the map and we’ll stay the night there. We will, however, leave first thing in the morning,” Marcus yielded.

“Yes sir,” Abby replied with a mock salute, eliciting a soft chuckle from him.

* * *

Just over half an hour later they arrived at the Red stone campground and luckily Marcus found a spot near some trees. Which wasn’t a second too soon because Octavia had been continuously whimpering for the past fifteen minutes and nothing Abby had tried so far made her quiet down. As soon as Marcus had reversed Mabel into the spot, he turned off the ignition before retrieving the bottle of whiskey and a glass.

“I’ll be outside. Make sure they're asleep or at least silent when I return."

Abby couldn’t help but kind of hate him for his hasty retreat. Sure, the only reason why he had asked her to tag along was to take care of the children so he didn’t have to, but was it really too much to ask to not think about himself for a second and help her? Apparently, it was.

Octavia was now full on crying and Abby had absolutely no idea as to why. She wasn’t hungry, her diaper was clean, she wasn’t teething nor was it her _I’m tired_ cry.

“Well, don’t just stand there. Pick her up,” Bellamy shouted from his position on the couch, his headphones still on.

Feeling her anxiety increase, she took a deep breath before gingerly picking Octavia up, bouncing her up and down and murmuring comforting words, yet nothing helped. The girl continued to cry with tears rolling down her cheeks.

Abby could feel a panic attack coursing through her body. Her fear of having a baby die in her arms suddenly came back with full force.

_What if she’s sick and dies? Her death will be her fault since you’re a doctor. You would have failed. And let’s be honest, that wouldn’t be the first time that happened either._

_Remember Asha? You gave her antibiotics and stayed with her for two weeks and yet she still died. Or Ekon? You couldn’t save him either. You also came too late for Zane and countless other babies who died after the attack in Kenia._

 “-ail. GAIL,” the boy shouted her name repeatedly, which startled her and by some miracle, she didn’t drop the girl.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? My sister’s crying and you’re simply standing there, completely frozen. Give her to me,” Bellamy took her from her limp arm and moved away, “Honestly, you’re useless,” he continued to mutter while successfully managing to calm his sister down. Her crying was now reduced to a soft whimpering.

_Useless._

_The boy’s right. You are utterly useless. You tried being a doctor, which didn’t work out since you caused more destruction and death than that you actually helped people. Then you got married and your own body betrayed you by not getting pregnant. You basically ran away from your job and look how that worked out. You can’t even function independently because you were so stupid to have your car stolen, the same car which had all of your money. Honestly, why are you even trying?_

She was now full on shaking. Her breaths were coming out in rapid spurts, her chest moving quite quickly.

“I - I need some air,” she gasped and she absolutely hated the way her voice trembled.

“Whatever,” Bellamy replied without even baring her a single glance.

When the door of Mabel slammed shut behind her, she took a deep breath as she tried to calm her racing heart and trembling hands.

She had barely taken ten steps from the motorhome when a male voice called out, startling her, “Did those darling children already manage to drive you out of Mabel?”

As she slowly turned her head to the left, she spotted him. His body was sprawled against a picnic table, with a cigarette dangling between two fingers of his right hand while holding a glass of whiskey in the other. He had his long legs crossed at the ankles and since he was leaning his elbows on the table behind him, the fabric of his shirt was stretched, showing off his firm chest. She was momentarily mesmerized by the movement of his hair by the light breeze.

“Perhaps I simply wanted some fresh air.”

“Hmm.”

“Tell me something, am I likely to get arrested for being with you?” She asked which caused him to chuckle.

“Whatever makes you think that?”

“Well, let’s see. For a guy who can’t wait to drop both those kids and me off, you most certainly prefer to keep off the main roads.”

“Would you believe me if I said I loved the scenery?”

“Not a chance,” she replied without even a moment of hesitance.

“Fair enough.”

“So, be honest, what are you hiding? What’s going on between you and those kids? You already told me that their mother died, but how do you fit in? And why are you driving to Iowa?”

“You may have noticed that the Blake siblings have rather delicate stomachs," Marcus started to explain.

“And?”

“Well besides that Bellamy actually threatened to scream that I was kidnapping both him and his sister if I forced them to travel by plane," Marcus said.

“That does sound like something he would do," Gail admitted before continuing, "That doesn't explain why you're the one taking care of them. I know that you knew their mother years ago but how did you end up having them under your care?"

Marcus took another sip of his whiskey before pointing towards the seat next to him. Abby hesitated for a second before sitting down. He immediately put out his cigarette, which she appreciated. She did, however, leave some space between them. Which was something that didn't go unnoticed by Marcus.

“When I was in my early twenties I met their mother, Aurora Blake, and I was very briefly married to her. And she for some reason she decided to put my name on both their birth certificates.”

“But you’re not their biological father?”

“No. Until three days ago I didn’t even know that Aurora had two children. I only ever knew about the boy.”

“But why on earth would she put her ex-husband on her children's birth certificates?”

“Your guess is as good as mine," Marcus shrugged.

“So now you had to prove that you're not their father?”

“Yeah.”

“I still don’t entirely get it though. You clearly don’t like the children, you dislike spending time in their presence. Why didn't you simply walk away? Or take a DNA test to prove that you're not their father?" 

“Would you believe me if I told you that besides a delicate stomach Bellamy also has a fear of needles?" Marcus stated. 

“That sounds plausible," she admitted, "However..." she continued.

He sighed. Of course, he should have known that she wasn’t going to let it go that easily.

“That still doesn’t explain why you’re keeping off the main roads.”

He slightly shifted before taking another sip of whiskey.

“Aurora’s mother is still on her way to Iowa. She’s coming back from Australia where she was doing research for her work. And because I stated to Aurora’s attorney that I wasn’t the children’s biological father he wanted to bring them under the care of Child’s Service. Which I didn’t want to happen to either of them. Not even for a short period of time.”

“So you decided to sidestep the authorities," she pointed out.

“Basically, yes.”

“Which means that you, by law, did kidnap those children,” she pressed.

“If you want to be focused on details, then yes.”

“This is has nothing to do with me focusing on details, but with you breaking the law.”

“Well, that’s a bit hypocritical of you, don’t you think so?” Marcus declared, causing her to frown.

“How do you mean?”  

“Did you or did you not steal the car from your boyfriend, ex-boyfriend or whatever you want to call him?” 

 _Oh, right_. Abby had momentarily forgotten the story she had fabricated.

“You can’t honestly compare stealing a car with having two minors under your responsibility with whom you crossed state lines without telling Child Services.”

“Details,” he rebutted while flashing her a small smirk which made her stomach - to her dismay - flutter.

“But since we’ve started on the topic of lies, what about you?” He asked while leaning closer and she caught a whiff of his deodorant as he did so. That combined with the smell of his cigarette and the whiskey he was drinking made for an intoxicating combination and Abby had no idea as to why. Because in all fairness, those things combined should smell horrible. And yet they didn’t.  

“What about me? I’m an open book,” she replied with a shrug, trying to sound aloof, eliciting a snort from Marcus.

“Oh really? Why do you continue to use a fake accent then?” 

“Wait, who says it’s fake?”

“You mean besides the fact that you forget to use it the majority of the time? Or that you switch between at least two other accents? And please don’t bring up the _I moved a lot as a child_ – story,” he remarked.

“I did move a lot as a child," she tried to convince him but he merely shook his head. 

“Oh, give it up Gail. You’re absolutely well educated. I mean, come on, you eat fries with fork and knife,” Marcus huffed.

She shrugged, “I just don’t like greasy fingers.”

“Do I look like a moron to you?”

Abby’s mind was racing. She had to think fast, “All kinds of women can get caught up in a bad relationship. Education doesn’t have anything to do with it.”

“How bad are we talking about? Bad enough that you have to downplay your education, use a fake accent and dye your hair?”

“How do you even know that I dyed my hair?” She asked with a frown. _How the hell did he know that?_

“I noticed some hair dye on your skin earlier,” Marcus explained.

“Oh,” she averted her gaze towards her hands, “And yes, it was that bad.”

"But he wasn’t physically abusing you right?”

“And that makes it any less bad?” She cried out. 

“Absolutely not," he was quick to assure her, "Any form of abuse is bad." 

His quick reaction made her relax. 

Giving him a small nod, Abby continued to explain, "No there was never any physical abuse. He just demanded complete control over my life. He needed to know where I was, what I was doing, with whom I was spending time and things like that."

"So that's why you think he could be following you? Because now he has lost his control over you?" 

She gave an affirmative nod, "He doesn't like it when things don't go his way. And me leaving him was definitely  _not_ what he wanted."

"And you had no friends or family members where you could have stayed for a while?"

"No," she softly whispered, "I had nobody." 

Which she was the sad truth. Growing up she never had a lot of friends, being the daughter of Senator Walters scared a lot of people off. And after she got involved with Jacob whatever private life she had completely disappeared. 

"He controlled every aspect of my life," she admitted and to her horror, she could hear her voice crack and tears burn in her eyes. But she held those tears back. She had spent enough time crying. 

"I'm sorry you had to go through that. That must have been difficult," Marcus said after a minute, his tone soothing. 

She shrugged, "It's in the past. Now if you don't mind, today has been a tiring day and I'd like to get some sleep. Goodnight," she announced before getting up.

"Goodnight," Marcus replied at which she flashed him a small smile before disappearing into Mabel and leaving Marcus behind with this thoughts.

Swirling the content within his glass he let his mind wander to what he had heard.

There was more she wasn’t telling him. He was sure of it. But how could he make her tell him without pushing her too far? And how the hell did listening to a single voice mail make his life so complicated?

 _Don’t overreact, your life was already a mess before that –_ his subconscious pointed out.

From the moment his father had lost his job when Marcus had been six and he had turned to crime both his mother's and his life had gotten more difficult. Money had always been tight, even more so when at the age of ten Marcus had come home to his father being arrested and sent to jail. 

Throughout high school, he had worked in a local diner and during his time at college, he balanced two jobs with his studies. Almost all of his money went to his mother and after he had made a name for himself as a journalist, he had paid off his mother's mortgage and made sure she would never have to worry about money ever again. 

For a while, things had been better but then Marcus had let his arrogance blind him, resulting in him making a terrible mistake and losing his job at the _Arkadia._ After that, his so-called friends ignored his calls and he had to sell a lot of his things; like one of his cars and his house. Not to mention that he had been too ashamed to return his mother's phone calls. Especially after he started working for  _Blitz._ By then her calls automatically went to voicemail and he kept turning her invitations to dinner down. He simply couldn't face her, couldn't stand to see the pity in her eyes. 

So all Marcus wanted, no  _needed_ was one big story which would restore his credibility as a journalist. Only then would he be able to be able to look his mother in the eyes again. But instead of working on a story in New York he was currently sitting somewhere in the middle of absolutely nowhere, drinking whiskey while driving across the country in an ancient motorhome. All because his ex-wife decided it would be a good idea to appoint him guardian and biological father of her children

And then there was Gail.

Gail who intrigued him, who was stronger than she had initially appeared, who challenged him, who made him feel things he hadn't felt in a very long time.

...and who was definitely lying to him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and/or kudos are much appreciated


	6. An all American roadtrip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for commenting and leaving kudos. You have no idea how much they mean. I might not have replied to your comments, but know that I have read them and I cherish them all. 
> 
> In this chapter, you're going to learn a little bit more about Bellamy and how rough his life has been since his mother's death. Of course, there's going to be plenty of banter in the chapter, some shirtless Marcus and a secret will be revealed. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“I am not going to sleep on the floor in that disgusting sleeping bag,” Bellamy cried out.

“Listen, you’re lucky that I’m not making you sleep on the couch. And don’t exaggerate, you have a thin mattress,” Marcus retorted.

“That things stinks. Besides what about the bed? And where’s Octavia going to sleep?” The boy pressed, unwilling to give in.

“Gail and Octavia will sleep on the bed,” Marcus explained and Bellamy did seem satisfied with the knowledge that at least his sister will get a good night's rest. Well until he frowned and pointed at Gail.

“Why does _she_ get the double bed?”

“You mean besides the fact that she’s pregnant?”

“I-”

“Listen either you sleep in that sleeping bag or you sleep outside. Your choice.”

“Why don’t you go sleep with Gail and I’ll take the couch with O. I know you want to,” Bellamy threw back, taking both adults by surprise.

With Marcus temporarily stunned, Gail took it upon herself to reply.

“Please, he only likes me marginally more than he does you. Which says absolutely nothing,” she stated as she moved towards the bathroom, “I’m going to take a shower. Please try not to kill each other,” she continued with a small smirk.

Her amusement, however, died quickly after she entered the bathroom.

 _God this was tiny_.

She has been in toilets bigger than this. Not to mention a lot cleaner. But then again the First Lady _always_ stayed in rooms which were spotless. Bellamy hadn’t been kidding when he had mentioned that the bathroom looked like a disaster. There was a layer of dust on absolutely everything and the mirror was so smudged that she could barely make out the shape of her face.

Marcus might have managed to take a shower like this, but she most definitely wasn’t going to. Opening the cabinet beneath the sink she was fortunate enough to find some cloth and product to clean. It might have been awhile - alright it might have been years - since she had cleaned anything but Abby was sure she’d manage.  

After what felt like hours the bathroom finally looked and even smelled marginally better. It wasn’t as clean as she would have liked it, but it was definitely an improvement.

With a relieved sigh she finally remover the pillow from around her waist before removing the rest of her clothes and turning the shower on.

After a quick wash, Abby was reluctant to put the pillow back on, but it’s not like she had a choice. The persona she had created with heavily pregnant which meant looking pregnant.

Although the pillow wasn’t exactly heavy, it - combined with the straps - wasn’t entirely comfortable either. Next, she retrieved a long and baggy cotton nightgown from her bag. The gown was so different from the things she usually wore to bed.

Abby couldn’t help but wonder how Jacob would react if he could see her now.

Would he be appalled like her father? Or angry like Jaha? Perhaps disappointed that she’d been having not exactly innocent thoughts about another man?

Or would he, as she hoped, be proud of her for standing up to her father and Jaha and finally doing what _she_ wanted?

Thinking about her late husband made her instinctively reach out and touch her wedding ring.

….Only to come in contact with bare skin.

Of course.

She had taken her ring off on the morning she left the White House dressed as an old lady.

With a small shake of her head, she started finished dressing. Letting her mind wander into that direction would lead to nothing but sadness.

When she emerged from the bathroom, she was relieved to see that Bellamy had already fallen asleep. His sister was close by on the bed, dressed in a onesie with one of her plushies between her arms. The sight of the sleeping siblings brought a smile to her face, and although her heart ached, the sting was less than she saw them for the first. Perhaps she should make the most of her time with the Blake siblings and stop dwelling on the fact that she could never have children.

As Abby moved to close the curtains her gaze instinctively looked for guards, since they had always been there, lurking in the shadows. But tonight the only things she saw were other motorhomes and trees. It felt good not being watched for every second of the day. As she laid down on the bed, a final thought crossed her mind; she hasn’t missed being Abigail Walters Griffin for a single second.

* * *

Bellamy awoke to something wet dripping on his face. He had no idea what time it was but surely it was still way too early to be awake.

“Bel. Bel”

The word was uttered softly, and as he slowly opened his eyes he was faced with the beaming face of Octavia peeking down from her position on the bed

...while drooling on him.

_Ugh._

He quickly wiped the wetness from his face. Babies were so gross.

The sight of his smiling sister made his stomach hurt. With every mile, they crossed they were getting closer to Iowa, closer to his grandmother. Or so Kane thought. Bellamy had no idea how to man would react when he found out his lie, only that it definitely won’t be good.

He was slowly running out of time.

Bellamy still had to somehow convince Kane that he should be the one to take care of his sister and to legally adopt her as his daughter.

He himself would be fine. He was smart, he could take care of himself. But Octavia… she deserved growing up with someone who wasn’t drunk almost all of the time. Someone who actually seemed interested in her and did typical parent things like making dinner, bringing her to school, buy her school supplies. All of the things he never experienced.

But how could he convince Kane? The man clearly didn’t like either him or Octavia. And with Gail hanging around, his attention was more focused on her than them.

“Hello Octavia,” he whispered back and her smile widened.

As he moved into an upright position he noticed Marcus who was sprawled across the couch. Not for the first time since meeting the man Bellamy couldn’t help but wish that Kane was his biological father. Why couldn’t Aurora have gotten pregnant from him instead of a one night stand? Perhaps then they would have stayed married or even if they hadn’t, Kane might have gotten custody over him.

“Gah.”

The noise captured his attention and Bellamy refocused his attention back on his sister. Who wouldn’t even be alive if Kane had stayed married to Aurora. And he couldn’t imagine a life without his sister.

“How about we go shower?” He stated with a smile. He really needed a change of clothes as well.

As he moved to gather both his and Octavia’s stuff his gaze fell onto a half-empty bottle of whiskey laying on the table next to Kane. The sight caused a hot trail of betrayal burn right through him. Did he really misjudge Kane that much? Was he simply yet another drunk? If so, he could never leave Octavia behind with him. There was absolutely no way. She has been surrounded by too many drunks already. Perhaps he could convince Gail to take her? She looked decent enough.

Sure she didn’t know a lot about babies and she looked absolutely terrified every time she picked Octavia up. But she played with her. Combed her hair. Was constantly worried about something happening to her. But then again, she was already pregnant. Would she be willing to take care of two children?

Quietly Bellamy hoisted his sister in his arms with her bag slung over his shoulder and he moved out Mabel and into the morning air.

Taking a deep breath he started to walk towards the public restroom where there were not only toilets but also a couple of showers. And hopefully, they weren’t too shabby.

After crossing the short distance and arriving at the public restroom Bellamy was glad to see that the showers were, while a bit old, clean enough. Carefully, he put Octavia down on the floor before dumping their stuff on a nearby bench and taking out some shampoo, shower gel, and two towels.

His stomach started to hurt again, which had been happening more often after Aurora’s death. Either he was worried about money, about Youth and Child Services taking Octavia away and him ending up in a crappy foster home.

Octavia was happily babbling as he took first hers and then his clothes off. While she crawled on the floor, Bellamy carefully tested the water’s temperature to make sure that it wasn’t too hot for her. Stepping beneath the spray of water he knelt down and ushered his sister to crawl towards him.

“Come here Octavia, let’s get clean.”

At the sight of the running water, Octavia’s eyes grew wide and she stayed put.

“No,” she muttered.

Sighing Bellamy tried really hard not to get upset with her ‘cause he knew that she was only a baby and she didn’t know any better. But he was so tired and worried about Kane finding out about his lie and dropping both him and Octavia off at Youth and Child Services that he could feel his patience running thin.

“Please come here,” he tried again, but now she shuffled backward.

“Octavia, get here,” Bellamy shouted and he knew that raising his voice was a mistake the second Octavia’s face crumbled and her lower lip started to quiver.

_Fuck._

Cries filled the room.

“O, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry. Please stop,” Bellamy tried to sush and console her but his sister continued to cry.

Feeling overwhelmed with absolutely everything he sunk down to his knees and did something he hadn’t done in a very long time.

He cried.

He cried until sobs wracked his body.

Everything just came out at once. Losing Aurora. Not knowing how to take care of his sister. Running out of money since he had used Aurora’s final paycheck to pay for the rent and some food and diapers. His fear of foster care. Of losing Octavia.

A soft tug on his hair made him look up, with tears still rolling down his cheeks.

“Bel. No. No,” Octavia softly whispered.

Taking his sister in his arms, Bellamy continued to silently sob and Octavia immediately buried her face into his shoulder while her hands grabbed his hair. He wrapped his arms carefully around her tiny body and simply let the water pour down on the both of them.

* * *

 _How did it come to this,_ Abby thought with a sigh.

She, The First Lady of the United States, was behind the wheel of an ancient motorhome as she traveled towards Iowa with an attractive but incredibly annoying man, a grumpy teenager, and an adorable baby. Both children made her heart ache for the thing she desperately wanted but could never have. All the while she pretended to be a pregnant woman on the run for her controlling ex-boyfriend. And yet, she wouldn’t trade this for all the State dinners in the world.

“Where the hell are we? Are you _driving_?”

Glancing in the rearview mirror back Abby noticed Marcus lifting his head from the couch where he was sprawled upon.

_He really is quite insufferable when he wakes up. Well, even more so than usual_

His hair was tousled in such a way which made her fingers itch and twitch, eager to run them through those locks - so she tightened her grip on the wheel.

“Oh no, I’m simply sitting behind the wheel. My unborn child is the one who’s actually driving….. telepathically,” she sarcastically replied.  

“As anybody told you that you’re hilarious?” Marcus huffed.

“On several occasions as a matter of fact.”

_Nobody had, in fact, told her she was funny, but Marcus didn’t need to know that particular piece of information._

“Hmm. I bet they all lied” he grumbled, “Let me repeat my first question then. Where are we?”

“We’re in West-Virginia. Welcome to the state of mountains, rivers, and woodlands,” Abby informed him.

“If we’re in West-Virginia that would mean that the toll booths are behind us,” Marcus said, “Care to explain as to why we’re on a winding road instead of the highway? You know the highway on which we’re supposed to be?”

“What if I told you that we’re near it, which is the most important thing,” she retorted.

“But -”

“Listen if all you’re going to do is whine, please feel free to go back to sleep,” Abby snapped, annoyed by his comments. Which in turn caused Bellamy to snort when the boy snuck a glance at the stunned look on Marcus’ face.

“Fine, you have it your way. I’ll shut up,” he muttered.

“ _Thank_ you.”

The obvious sarcasm in her reply didn’t go unnoticed by him, but Marcus simply rolled his eyes. An action he immediately regretted since his head started to pound.

_This is why I don’t usually drink. Hangovers are the worst._

“Oh, there’s still some breakfast on the table if you want to. We went to a McDonald's drive-through. I also left some coffee for you,” she informed him over her shoulder.

“Let me guess, I paid for that breakfast as well?”

“You did. But before you start, I wrote everything down so I know exactly how much I owe you and you will get your money back.”

Marcus offered a mere grunt in reply before slowly getting up from his position on the couch. The process took longer than he was comfortable admitting to. But in the end, he was standing upright and slowly moved towards the coffee – only to turn away when the smell hit his nose as it made him nauseous.

A detour to the bathroom it is.

“You think he’s going to throw up?” Bellamy asked as he watched Marcus disappear.

“Maybe. I’m sure he’ll be fine,” she replied.

“Oh, I don’t care if he does throw up. I just don’t want to hear it,” the boy retorted, but Abby could hear a barely noticeable hint of concern in his voice.

”You know, I do wish that Aurora would have picked a guy with a better name than Kane. But at least it’s not spelled with a C. That would have been even worse,” he continued to say which made Gail frown.

“Wait does that mean that yours and Octavia’s last name is Kane as well?”

“Yeah, so was Aurora’s. She never changed it back after the divorce. I think she still liked him.”

Can’t say I blame her, Abby couldn’t help but think, I mean besides the obvious snarkiness and stubbornness it was clear that Marcus was a good man.

... _not to mention handsome,_ her traitorous mind whispered.

They both heard the shower going on.

_Guess he didn’t need to throw up after all._

A wicked thought entered her mind and with a small smirk, Abby deliberately jerked the car to the right and immediately back to the left.

A heavy bang and muttered curses could be heard throughout Mabel.

“You aren’t as nice as you look,” Bellamy stated between bouts of laughter. “I like it.”

She simply smiled back at him in the rearview mirror.

“Kane got drunk last night didn’t he?” the boy softly pointed out, surprising her with both the question as his initiative for conversation.

“He did.”

“I hate drunks.”

“I’m not too keen on them either.”

“They’re really selfish you know. Always think that they’re funny while all they do is talk nonsense, throw insults, get sick and fall asleep,” Bellamy explained and Abby got the distinct feeling that the boy wasn’t talking about Marcus, but about his mother and her boyfriends.

She didn’t really know how to reply, so she just hummed in agreement.

“Is she always this active?” Abby asked when Octavia started to move up and down in her chair while loudly babbling.

“Well yeah. She’s a baby. That’s what they do. They’re loud, they eat, they poop and then they explore stuff. You really don’t know much about babies do you?” Bellamy uttered and even though it was said without any spite, the words still stung a little bit.

_I know how AIDS affects their bodies. Or how long it takes before a baby dies of starvation. Or how they cry after a bomb destroyed their homes. Or…_

_NO! Don’t think about that -_ Abby shook her head as she tried to clear her mind.

“Well try to keep her occupied.”

“And how am I supposed to do that? We’re stuck in a motorhome. If we stopped somewhere then I could let her crawl for a bit,” Bellamy pointed out, even though he had already moved in front of his sister while trying to distract her with a video on his phone.

“I doubt that Marcus would approve.”

“I’m sure he will when Octavia starts to cry,” the boy replied which made her chuckle.

“Fair point.”

The next couple of minutes were filled with sounds from whatever cartoon Bellamy was showing his sister until the teenager suddenly exclaimed, “Hey, put some clothes on. I don't want to see any of that. And neither does Octavia. You do realize that she’s at a very impressionable age,”

Abby glanced into the rearview window, confused as to why Bellamy would say something like that.

...and nearly drove off the road.

Marcus had wandered out of the bathroom wearing only a tiny towel wrapped around his waist. His hair was still wet and her gaze unabashedly traveled down, down to his well-defined chest, his muscled arms and tanned skin.

Skin she wouldn’t mind tracing with her tongue _._

_What the hell?_

The thought had startled her so much that she swerved Mabel to the left before correcting herself, causing the other occupants to cry out.

“What the hell Gail?! Are you trying to kill us?” Marcus shouted as he leaned against the kitchen counter.

“I’m so sorry. I was momentarily distracted,” she muttered with red cheeks.

“Well could you not, goddammit? Especially when you’re driving?!”

“I said I was sorry. Also, language! There will be no swearing around the children,” she firmly stated while ignoring Bellamy’s _I’m not a child,_ or Marcus’ _I’ll swear if I want to_ mumbledresponses.

“Just put some clothes on Marcus,” she continued to say.

“Yeah yeah. Gimme a minute,” he muttered as he grabbed some clothes and disappeared into the bathroom again.

A couple of minutes later he came back out - fully dressed this time - and let himself drop in the passenger’s seat. “Why don’t you let me drive?”

“I will. After we made a quick stop at a local lake.”

“What? Why?”

“You mean besides it being one of the most visited spots in West-Virginia? It’ll be educational for Bellamy as well.”

“Do I look like I care about the boy’s education?” Marcus’ quick to retort, causing her to roll her eyes.

“And that kind of disinterest in children’s education is one of the main reasons why the public school system of this country is in serious jeopardy.”

That statement earned herself an incredulous stare and Abby barely managed not to fidget.

_Dammit, she did it again._

“Whatever. I still don’t care. Pull over,” Marcus pressed but she shook her head.

“Nope. it’s honestly not that far. Just drink your coffee, hopefully, it’ll help your mood ‘cause honestly? I don’t care for hungover Marcus.”

“Oh, you don’t?”

“No. So for as long as I’m around, I’ll make sure that you won’t have more than one glass a day,” she stated, her tone final.

“You don’t get to decide how much I drink,” Marcus retorted, his voice annoyed.

“And yet I just did.”

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” He asked while pinching his nose.

“I’m not”

“And we’re going to see this damned lake whether I like it or not, aren’t we?”

“Absolutely.”

With a huge sigh, Marcus put his now empty coffee cup down before slouching in his seat. “Fine. Just wake me up when we get there.”

“We’ll see,” Gail replied eliciting a snort from Bellamy.

* * *

Marcus didn’t know how much time had passed; but when he woke up, Mabel was standing still and he could hear Gail and the kids moving around before exiting the motorhome.

“You coming sleepy head?” Gail called out and not for the first time he wondered how the hell he got into this situation, running after two children and a pregnant woman.

“Okay, let’s get this over with,” he sighed before getting up.

As Marcus excited Mabel and took in his surroundings he had to admit - but only to himself - that the lake did look beautiful. The weather was lovely for the time of the year, the trees still had some leaves - which were all in different shades of red and yellow.

“Alright, you got your wish. We’re at the lake. Let’s take a quick look around and get back on the road shall we?”

“Oh no, we’re going to have some lunch as well. That’s why I packed this,” Gail replied while pointing to the bag next to her.

“I never agreed to that.”

“Well Octavia needs to eat and since she’ll get sick if I feed her in Mabel I decided to kill two birds with one stone so to say,” she pointed out.

“I-”

“Or do you want to clean up when she eventually throws up?” She pressed on and when he shut his mouth, because goddammit she was right, she actually _smirked_ at him.

 _Smirked._ The nerve of that woman. Unbelievable.

And even though Marcus could have pointed out that since she was basically their babysitter she would be the one cleaning up the vomit, he didn’t. Why? Because honestly, it wasn’t even worth it, and his head hurt already enough as it was.

“Fine. Have it your way.”

“Much appreciated,” she smirked and Marcus’ eyes narrowed at the obvious sarcasm in her voice.

“Djeezes,” Bellamy exclaimed loudly, causing the both of them to turn around face the boy.

“Why don’t you two kiss already? This is getting exhausting,” he stated, sounding exasperated with them. “You know what? I’m gonna go for a walk. You guys’ turn to watch Octavia,’ he finished before turning around.

“Bellamy wait,” Gail called out, causing him to look back

“What?”

“Thanks for bathing your sister this morning. I do appreciate it.”

The boy seemed taken aback by that. “I - Yeah well, someone had to do it and you obviously forgot to do it,” he ended up saying before storming off.

“I doubt he’s that excited about seeing the lake,” Marcus quipped, which made her laugh.

“Hmm, you never know,” she replied while turning her head towards him.

Only to find him looking at her, his gaze intense.

Feeling flustered, she averted her eyes while bouncing Octavia on her hip. “Right let’s get some food in this girl shall we?” She remarked to the girl, who giggled in response.

“I’ll take the bag,” Marcus stated as he saw Gail move to pick it up.

“Oh thank you.”

He shrugged, “No problem. So where do you want to sit down and feed her?”

“Uhm, how about a bit closer to the lake? There are some trees so we can sit in the shade?”

“Sounds fine by me.”

“Alright then.”

After a short walk, they come by an excellent spot so Marcus took out a blanket from the bag and placed it on the grass.

Gail settled down and put Octavia on the blanket as well. The girl immediately started to crawl towards some nearby flowers, the sight of a butterfly had captured her attention. When the butterfly flew away she clapped her hands in delight.

“Octavia look what I have?” Gail asked as she finished preparing a bottle. With wide eyes, the girl crawled over towards her, hands reaching for the bottle.

Marcus observed how Gail fed her the bottle with a small smile on her lips. While watching them he felt a warmth settling in his chest and for some reason, he felt the urge to correct her earlier assumption about his drinking.

“I want you to know that I’m usually not a heavy drinker,” he casually mentioned while reaching out and grabbing an apple.

“That’s good to hear. I fear that those kids have been surrounded by more than enough drunks already,” she replied and Marcus grunted in agreement.

When she finished feeding Octavia, Gail rose from her place on the blanket. “I’m going to see where Bellamy wandered off too. I’ll leave Octavia here with you so she can crawl a bit.”

“Uhm, if I’m not mistaken you’re the nanny here. Not me.”

“Just make sure she doesn’t wander off too far and you’ll be fine,” Gail stated with a wink before walking away.

Marcus grumbled under his breath as he watched her walk away. Taking another bite of his apple, he cursed his decision to let her tag along.

_Aggravating woman._

A flicker of movement to the left caught his attention. As he looked up, he noticed that Octavia had somehow managed to cross the distance towards the lake.

_Fuck she was fast. Babies weren’t supposed to move this quickly._

Marcus flew up, carelessly dropping his apple on the ground before running towards the lake. Just as he reached the edge of the lake Octavia paddled in, hands first but then the rest of her followed. The edge wasn’t too deep but it was still too deep for a baby and to his horror Marcus watched how Octavia went under and without thinking he dived right in the water. He caught a glimpse of her overalls and quickly grabbed it, pulling her backward and out of the water.

Octavia came up with startled eyes, her arms and legs dangling, with water dripping from her entire body. She blinked, gasped for air and started coughing. Heart still hammering with adrenaline Marcus cradled her in his arms while muttering soothings words. The beating of her tiny heart did calm him a little bit down.

_She was okay. She was okay._

After not even a full minute Octavia stopped coughing and as Marcus felt the girl taking in a deep breath - causing her chest to expand - he knew exactly what was coming.

“Don’t cry!” He called as he looked down at the girl who was staring at him with wide eyes

“You’re okay. You just took some water. You’re okay now, see?” He murmured as he softly bounced her up and down while walking out of the lake. She didn’t start to cry but her lower lip still quivered.

_Please don’t cry. Don’t cry._

As his inner monologue was going on, he could hear the familiar voices of Gail and Bellamy getting closer.

_Shit. This wasn’t something he would be able to explain easily._

Marcus had to think fast.  “Alright, looks like we’re going to go back into the water.”

Before he could even second guess himself, Marcus turned around and walked back until the water reached his waist.

Octavia buried her face in his shirt, her hands clinging onto him.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to dunk you into the water. We’re simply walking around, see?” He explained while slowing moving into the water.

“What the hell are you doing in the water? Are you insane?” Gail shouted.

Marcus winced at the absolute furious undertone of her voice.

“Get out of the water this instant. Do you have any ideas how many germs there could be in the water? Octavia could get typhoid. Is that what you want?” Gail continued to shout.

With one look down to the girl, who was now happily kicking her legs in the water, Marcus highly doubted that.

“I don’t think typhoid is very common around these places,” he called out with a smile but as he got closer and got a better look at Gail - at the way her hands were trembling and how pale she was - his smile quickly disappeared.

She looked genuinely upset and Marcus felt a twinge of guilt for having caused it.

“She’s fine, I promise,” he tried to soothe her while walking towards the edge of the lake.

“Oh really? Both you and Octavia are waddling around in lake while being fully dressed!”

“What can I say? It was a rather impulsive decision.”

“She’s going to catch a cold.”

“No, she isn’t.”

“Please, just come out.”

“Fine,” he sighed, but as he moved out of the water, Octavia started to twist her little body as she desperately tried to get back into the water.

‘No. no. No more water for you,” he said, trying to calm her down but she continued to struggle.

“You better get her back in the water or she’s going to start crying,” Bellamy stated, looking very amused with the situation.

“You deal with that then,” Marcus said while handling a still struggling Octavia to Gail.

She, however, simply shook her head and moved backward with a smug smile on her face.

“Oh no. This is on you.”

 _Fuck_.

Defeated, Marcus turned around and walked right back into the water. The second Octavia felt the water, she immediately calmed down.

_Devil child._

* * *

After walking around in the water for about twenty minutes Octavia had been sufficiently worn out so Marcus started to make his way back to Mabel.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he announced at Gail, who had just finished packing all of their stuff.

“You better take Octavia with you.”

“I’m not going to shower with a _child._ You’re responsible for her,” he countered.

“Not according to the law, mister guardian,” she taunted him, breaking out in laughter at the absolute look of surprise on his face.

“I don’t know why I still allow you to travel with us,” he wondered as they both got into the motorhome.

“Cause I’m absolutely delightful,” she replied in an innocently sweet voice while handing him two towels. “Come on, in the shower you go.”

With a slight push he found himself in the bathroom, a sleepy Octavia still in his arms.

How she managed to get him to do things she wanted, left him completely bewildered.

Five minutes later he was showering with Octavia safely splashing on the floor.

“I’m getting you back for this,” he called out, loud enough to be heard on the other side of the door.

“You brought this onto yourself. None of this would have happened if you hadn’t taken Octavia for a stroll in the lake,” Gail laughed, “Don’t forget to wash her hair as well.”

“Yeah yeah. I know that. I’m not a complete idiot,” he muttered with glancing down at Octavia. “Let’s get this over with.”

Several muttered curses, ducking fists and elbow banging against later, Marcus had managed to wash both him and the girl and dry her off.

Wrapping a towel both around Octavia and his waist he opened the bathroom and her on the floor.

“She’s all yours,” he stated before shutting the door but not before a caught a glimpse of Gail’s amused face.

The second he closed the door, Octavia started to fuss.

“I think she wants you back,” he heard Gail’s muffled voice.

"Tell her to take a number,” he shouted back, causing her to laugh and damned but the sound made his chest feel lighter.

After Marcus got dressed they finally got back on the road. Bellamy was sprawled across the couch listening to his music while Octavia had finally fallen asleep and Gail was reading next to him in the passenger’s seat.

There was a comfortable silence until the adults both heard a loud thud coming from the front of Mabel.

_You gotta be kidding me_

“What was that?” Gail asked as she put her book down, a frown firmly on her face.

“You remember the sound the engine made yesterday?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s definitely not it.”

“Shit.”

Marcus felt his eyebrows raise at the softly uttered expletive. Just this morning she was chastising him for his language and now she was the one cursing.

“How bad do you think it is?”

“I honestly don’t know, but for our own safety, I think it would be best if we stopped at the nearest garage. You can use my phone to look one up. It’s on the table,” he instructed her.

“Alright,” she replied while getting up and retrieving his phone before sitting down again and starting to type.

“So there’s a parking lot in about seven miles with a diner, a 7-eleven and a garage. You think we’ll make that?”

“As long as I don’t drive too recklessly I think we should be okay,” he tried to sound reassuring, while in fact, he wasn’t too sure they would - in fact - make it.

However, fifteen minutes later, Marcus did manage to turn into the parking lot beside the garage. After killing the engine he simply stared out of the window with a sigh. He looked so disheartened that without even giving it a second thought Gail reached over and gave his arm a comforting squeeze.

“I’m sure that whatever it is, it’ll be something easy to fix,” she whispered. Just as their eyes met, something warm settled into her stomach and she felt her cheeks getting red. Clearing her throat, Gail removed her hand and averted her gaze.

“Alright Bellamy, let’s go and spend some more of Marcus’ money on food while he figures out with to do with Mabel,” she declared while getting up from her seat. “Can you take Octavia with you? I’ll get her bag.”

“Best plan I’ve heard all day,” the boy muttered.

They quickly moved out of the motorhome and crossed the short distance towards the small diner. The weather was good enough for them to eat outside. Bellamy had just left to get some more food when she spotted Marcus coming out of the garage. Giving him a small wave, she watched him coming over, his face grim.

He let himself fall down next to her on the bench. “It’s a busted tie rod. They’ll have it fixed by tomorrow.”

“So we’re stuck here?”

“Not exactly,” Marcus replied while stealing a fry from her plate, “The guy informed me that there’s a Holiday Inn a couple of miles from here where we can stay. I also rented another car until tomorrow,” he finished explaining while eating another fry.

“You want some ketchup with that?” She asked with a small smile.

He had the decency to look slightly bashful before nodding. With a huff, Gail pushed her tray closer to him.

“What happened to nutritious food?” He asked between bites.

“It decided to take a day off,” she replied with a shrug, eliciting a chuckle from him.

Marcus continued to munch on her fries but she noticed him eyeing her drink as well.

“Here, you look thirsty,” she mentioned while handing him her tumbler of diet coke.

It’s only when he accepted the drink with raised eyebrows and a smirk that she realized how _flirtatious_ that sentence sounded. Her cheeks immediately flushed with embarrassment. Keeping his gaze on her Marcus slightly bowed his head and instead of drinking from the rim, he used the straw.

The _goddamn_ straw.

The same straw she had used earlier.

At the realization that his lips were currently touching the same place her lips had been mere minutes ago, a warmth settled in the pit of her stomach.

“So did you figure out what’s wrong with Mabel?” Bellamy asked as he came back, causing Marcus to break eye contact, leaving her feeling oddly bereft.

“Busted tie rod.”

“That sucks,” the boy muttered.

“Indeed.”

“So what are we supposed to do now? Walk to Iowa?”

Marcus simply pointed over his shoulder towards an old red Chevy. “I rented another car.”

“That old thing?”

He shrugged while eating another fry, “They were fresh out of Ferrari's.”

“Hilarious.”

“I know.”

“So where are we going to sleep then? There’s no way we fit in that. And so help me, if you even suggest we go _camping_ -“ Bellamy said only to fall silent when Marcus shook his head.

“Not a chance. We’re going to go to a nearby Holiday Inn and sleep there,” he informed the boy who looked relieved knowing that he wouldn’t be forced to sleep in a tent.

“Wait does that mean that I won’t have to sleep on that crappy mattress tonight?”

Marcus rolled his eyes, “Yep. You’ll have a bed.”

“Awesome.”

* * *

When they finally arrived at the Inn they ended up with adjoining rooms.

To Marcus’ dismay.

He would have preferred to be as far from them as possible but then again, since when did his life ever go the way he wanted?

As Gail started to unpack she noticed Bellamy staring out of the window.

“You know I think there was a game room on the ground floor.”

“Do I look 5?” Came the terse response and Gail sighed.

“No, but you’re sure acting like a 5-year old.”

“Excuse me? I-“

“Just check it out Bellamy. If you don’t like it, you can come back to the room. I just thought that you perhaps wanted some time alone. You’ve been stuck with Marcus and me for pretty much all the time and you’ve been taking care of your sister,” she explained and her heart clenched at the look of disbelief on the boy’s face. It was clear that he wasn’t used to someone thinking about what _he_ might want.

“Alright, I might check it out in a few,” he replied and she took his compliance as a small victory.

It’s only when she turned her head that she realized that Octavia wasn’t in the room anymore. Panic started to course through her.

“Where did your sister go?”

“I dunno. It’s not like she could have gotten very far. She’s probably in the next room,” he offered as a possible explanation.

Gail quickly moved towards the other room, only to stop in her tracks when she saw Marcus standing in front of the bed with his head half buried in his shirt.

_Why couldn’t that man keep his damned clothes on?_

Frozen to the ground, her gaze wandered. Those shirts - even though they were form fitting - really didn’t do him any justice. Right now she had a perfect view of his broad shoulders and narrow waist. Her eyes followed the trail of dark hair down his stomach until it reached his pants, which were hanging low on his hips.

She was definitely enjoying the view until she realized that Marcus had finished taking off his shirt and he was currently looking at her with a lopsided smirk.

“See something you like?”

She tried to come up with a witty remark but her mind simply went blank.

“What? Yes. I mean no. I was wondering why you were changing again. Didn’t you put that T-shirt on after your shower earlier?”

“It got greasy at the garage.”

“Hmm.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Except we all seem to be running out of clean clothes. Which could be a problem.”

“I think I spotted a laundry machine downstairs. We can wash our clothes there tomorrow.”

“I do hope that with we you mean _you,_ ‘cause as far as I’m aware doing the laundry is not part of my job description,” she said with a small smile.

_What was she doing? Was she flirting?_

She was pleasantly surprised when Marcus replied with a smirk of his own

“Since when do you stick to a job description? Besides I could learn you a thing or two.”

_Good god, was he flirting back?_

Clearing her throat Gail moved to pick up Octavia but the girl wriggled in her grip which threw Gail off balance.

“Oops,” she whispered but Marcus instinctively wrapped his arms around her, steadying her.

_Dear god that chest is firm._

A slow smile lit up his face. “Caught you.”

Her eyes widened at their close proximity.

“ _Oh_.”

Octavia wriggled again and as Marcus shifted his arms to better support her a strange look entered his eyes. The look confused her for a second until she realized that he had one of this hands on her stomach.

...which was supposed to be round with child not with round with a 3 dollar pillow from Target.

_Fuck._

Panicking, she swiftly pushed away from his embrace. “Why don’t I go for a little walk with Octavia? That way you can have some well-deserved time alone,” she muttered while moving towards the door, Octavia firmly in her grip.

Marcus’ reply was slow, “Yes, you do that.”

She had never in her entire life made herself scarce that quickly.

* * *

A couple of hours at the game room and two cranky, not to mention hungry, children later Abby decided to order room service for Bellamy and herself while preparing Octavia’s food. Marcus’ room had been empty when they had arrived back, he hadn’t left a note but there was still some clothes and minor stuff in the room so she was positive that he hadn’t left them.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the look in his eyes when he had felt the pillow. He was going react to the fact that she had been faking being pregnant, of that she was sure. But how?

One thing she knew for sure was that whatever his reaction would be, it wasn’t going to be pleasant.

They all finished their food pretty quickly.

“I’m gonna take shower alright?” She called out to Bellamy who shrugged.

“Whatever.”

Her shower was short but necessary. Reluctantly she strapped her pillow back around her waist before slipping on her nightgown.

As she left the bathroom she noticed that both siblings had fallen asleep. Octavia in her crib and Bellamy was sprawled across one of the beds. With a soft smile, she moved and tucked the boy in.

They truly were adorable.

A noise coming from behind her caught her attention. Turning around she wasn’t surprised to find Marcus standing there. His attire, however, did surprise her. He was wearing yet another t-shirt - seriously how many black shirts did that man own? - and a pair of sweatpants.

Giving him a small smile, she said, “Glad to see that you haven’t decided to abandon us after all.”

He didn’t reciprocate her smile.

“We need to talk,” he stated, his tone serious.

“Can’t it wait until tomorrow? I’m very tired,” she tried to deflect since his tone made her weary, she already knew which way this conversation was going to go.

“No. we’re going to talk right now.”

Jerking his head towards his room, he stepped inside. With a sigh, she realized that refusing would be futile.

Best to get this over as quick as possible. Like a band-aid.

After entering his room she closed the door, things might get loud and she didn’t want to wake the children.

“I don’t like being lied to,” he immediately uttered.

“What do you -”

Before she could even finish her sentence Marcus stepped in front of her and he jerked up her nightgown, revealing the padding around her stomach.

“Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” She yelled, “What’s wrong with you?”

She could feel a wave of anger coursing through her and she moved away, causing the fabric to slide back over her legs.

_How dare he?_

“Who the hell do you think you are?”

Marcus simply stared back at her.

“You’re not pregnant.”

“No, I’m not,” she huffed, still angry at the absolute _nerve_ of the man.

“Why would you lie about something like that? Who are you? Is your name even Gail?”

Even though she wanted to slap him, she was relieved to hear that he hadn’t figured out who she actually was.

“Yes, that’s my name.”

“Why did you lie about being pregnant then?”

“I already told you, I have a very controlling ex-boyfriend.”

“You’re still going to go with that one?”

“I am.”

He still looked skeptical.

She sighed while sitting down on the bed, "I meant it when I mentioned that he’s very controlling. I really did need to disappear. Which is why I decided to dress up as a pregnant woman. To throw him off.”

“That’s all?”

“Yes. Can you now please drop it?”

He stared at her for a second before giving her a short nod. “Fine.”

“Great,” she replied, “Also did you really had to drag my nightgown up like that? What’s wrong with simply asking if I was pregnant?”

Marcus chuckled, “Right, 'cause you haven't lied before.”

“Point taken,” she conceded.

“So are you going to continue to wear that ridiculous contraption?”

“You mean the pillow?”

“Yeah, I mean you’re traveling with me and two children. I’m sure that that’s enough to throw your ex off.”

“And how am I supposed to explain my lack of a stomach to Bellamy?”

“Just tell him the truth. I’m sure he has heard stranger things.”

“Fine.”

She reached behind her and undid the straps, which honestly felt wonderful. After taking the pillow off, she dropped it on the bed behind her.

A silence fell between them until a smile appeared on Marcus’ face.

“At least I now don’t feel like such a pervert for being turned on by a pregnant woman,” he muttered and her eyes grew wide at the admission.

“Wait, what?”

It was obvious from the look on his face that he obviously hadn’t meant to let that much information slip.

“I - uh,” he mumbled, his cheeks slightly red. 

“You’re attracted to  _ me _ ?” she cried out. 

“Are you honestly surprised?” 

“Yes, I mean - men usually aren’t attracted to me,” she explained, still looking and feeling absolutely shocked. 

“Well, those men are blind,” he retorted, sounding completely serious. 

“You’re really telling the truth, aren’t you?” she pressed. She simply had to be sure because this snippet of information was so unexpected.  

“I just said that I did, didn’t I?” Marcus reaffirmed her, “Would you perhaps like a demonstration?” He asked and his voice had gone all husky. 

“A demo - a demonstration? I - that’s not - I mean,” she stammered, watching with eyes how he stepped closer. 

At this point, he was so close that she had to tilt her head to be able to look him into his eyes. His hands settled on her waist with his fingers gently caressing her hips. 

_ Oh my god.  _

He was going to kiss her. Marcus Kane - a man she met a day ago, who was arrogant yet likable at the same time - was going to kiss her. 

_ Her.  _ Abigail Walters Griffin. 

And you know what?

She was going to let him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and/or kudos are much appreciated


	7. Thinking about you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY THAT YOU GUYS HAD TO WAIT ALMOST AN EXTRA MONTH FOR THIS UPDATE. I didn't forget to post a new chapter I swear, but sometimes you simply need to take a little break and now I'm back! ^^ 
> 
> But perhaps this chapter's ending might soothe the pain of me updating too late?!

Marcus kept getting closer with every passing second and Abby felt her chest heave in anticipation. Breathing became more difficult the longer she stared into his dark eyes. When they were mere inches apart, he finally came to a halt.  They were currently so close that she had to tilt her head back in order to look him in the eyes. The way his gaze flickered towards her lips made her cheeks flush and her breath catch in her throat.

“Gail,” he whispered, his voice nothing more than a low rumble as he let a finger dance across the soft skin of her cheek, the caress causing her to shiver.

At the sound of that name slipping from between his lips, her body froze and Abby felt her heart drop.

_Of course._

Marcus thought he was going to kiss Gail Turner, a woman on the run from her ex. He had no idea who she truly was. No idea that he was about to kiss the First Lady of the United States.

_So stupid._

Abby could feel tears burning behind her eyes. How could she have forgotten the fact that she was pretending to be someone else? That _he_ thought she was someone else? She was certain that he would _never_ kiss her if he knew that she was Abigail Walters Griffin. All throughout her life men had been too intimidated by not only her name but also her father’s position in the government. They didn’t dream – nor dare - of coming close to her. Jake had been one of few who had actually looked passed all of that and had made an effort to get to know _her._  

Blinking back the tears which were threatening to escape, she pushed him backward.

“Just because you think I’m attractive doesn’t mean that you’re allowed to kiss me,” Abby reprimanded him and she internally berated herself for being the cause of the brief look of confusion mixed with hurt which flickered across Marcus’ face.

This all happened in a mere second before he stepped further away from her.

“I apologise for the misunderstanding,” he grumbled and she gave him a quick nod.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m really tired since today has been quite the day,” she stated before walking back towards the other room, not even bothering to wait for a reply from him.

The second she closed the door - mindful to do so quietly since the kids were already sleeping – Abby let herself fall against it, her heart still hammering in her chest. She had to stifle a small sob - which was threatening to break free - by pressing the palm of her hand firmly against her mouth.

* * *

Sleep didn’t come easily to her that night. Abby spent almost the entire time tossing and turning, begging her body to fall asleep. But her brain was too busy and focused on letting flashbacks of Marcus gazing at her lips, of him caressing her cheek, of the smell of his aftershave flicker through her mind.

Before she knew it, it was morning and Octavia started to whimper, stating her dissatisfaction about waking up with a full diaper.

Abby was quick to pick her up before cleaning her and putting a new diaper on – happy to be busy with mundane things so she didn’t have to think about facing Marcus.

But it didn’t take long before Marcus woke up and entered the room, grumbling a good morning before making a phone call to the garage.  To her dismay, Bellamy immediately picked up upon the awkwardness between them, his eyes flickering between them with a frown on his face.

“Alright, what happened between you guys?”

Before Abby could even open her mouth Marcus already answered. “I found out that Gail’s not pregnant. That bump beneath her clothes is a pillow.”

The boy’s eyes grew wide, “You’re lying.”

“I’m not,” Marcus retorted. “See?” he continued as he lightly poked her stomach.

Abby slapped his hands away, “What the hell Marcus?”

“Language,” both men smirked causing her to roll her eyes.

 “Why did you lie about being pregnant?” Bellamy asked, still looking slightly confused.

“She actually killed a man and she’s now on the run,” Marcus whispered in a conspiratorial way,  eliciting an exasperated sigh from her.

“Don’t be obnoxious,” she stated before turning her head towards Bellamy, “What I said before is true, I’m hiding from my ex so I decided to fake a pregnancy to throw him off.”

“That’s lame. I prefer Marcus’ story.”

“Yes well, thank you for expressing that opinion Bellamy,” Abby replied, the sarcasm obvious in her voice.

“Whatever. So are we finally going to a mall today or what?” The teenager asked.

“No.”

“You’re a real jerk, I do hope you know that,” Bellamy threw back but Marcus merely smirked.

“So I’ve been told. There will be no shopping during this trip.”

“And exactly are we supposed to do while Mabel’s getting fixed? Hang  out here?”

Abby could tell that Marcus was ready to give another sarcastic remark and honestly, it was too early for them to be bickering. “How about this, you drop us off at the nearest mall,” she said to Marcus, “And while I’ll go shopping for clothes with Bellamy and Octavia you can – I dunno – walk around on your own or go glare at people on a bench,” she proposed and Bellamy immediately perked up

Marcus knew that if he said no, Bellamy would be annoyed all day and he really didn’t need another day being stuck with a grumpy teenager. And being alone for even an hour sounded like actual heaven.

“Fine.”

Gail clapped her hands, “Excellent! Oh, if we’re stopping then we can have a picnic for lunch.”

“What is it with you and picnics?” Marcus couldn’t help but ask, not seeing the appeal of picnicking at all.

“They’re fun.”

“No, they’re not, but whatever makes you happy,” he shrugged, “Have you seen the keys by the way?”

“Oh, I have them since I’ll be the one driving,” she responded.

“No you’re not,” Marcus rebuked, “You don’t even fit behind the wheel properly.”

“Aha, but you see - I didn’t fit behind the wheel while I was _pregnant, but_ since you guys now know that I’m not, I can do this,” she said while pulling the padding from her waist, “And fit behind the wheel perfectly.”

“You’re a real comedian aren’t you.”

“I do try,” she replied with a smirk, “Now, let’s go to a mall shall we?”

Bellamy was quick to pick up his sister and walked towards the door, “Yeah, let’s go before Marcus changes his mind.”

“Less cheek Bellamy, but for your information, I’m not going to change my mind. We just have to make sure that we’re back at the garage around 1 pm, Mabel should be finished by then.”

“We will don’t worry.”

“I’m not worrying. Who said anything about worrying?”

“Oh, I guess your face is naturally stuck in a frown then,” Abby teased, only to laugh at the dumbfounded look on Marcus’ face.

“Come on then,” she tugged him towards the door with a smile.

* * *

The second they entered the mall, Bellamy immediately gave Octavia to Abby and wandered off.

“Don’t go too far,” she said but he simply shook his head before walking into a nearby store.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you in about an hour or so then,” she said at Marcus but he looked back at her for a second before sighing and taking Octavia from her, placing the girl on his hip.

“I’ll go with you. You can’t shop for the kids, carry the bags and Octavia at the same time.”

“Oh, you really don’t have to -“ she started to say, surprised that he would even suggest spending even more time together, especially since she expected him to be the one running off the second they had entered the mall and not Bellamy.

“It’s fine,” he interrupted, “Besides you’ll need my card to pay for the clothes, so me coming along is the easiest option.”

_Ah right, money._

She had completely forgotten for a moment that she didn’t have any. She really needed to make a secret call to Callie and asking her Chief of Staff to somehow send some cash over.

“Alright then, let’s get some things for Octavia first, shall we?” She proposed before walking towards a kid’s store.

They had just left their second store when Abby spotted Bellamy running towards them, a huge grin on his face.

“There you guys are, where the heck have you been? I’ve been looking for you guys everywhere. Gail, you have to come with me right now,” he pressed while taking the bags out of her hands and setting them down next to Marcus before gripping her hand and dragging her forwards.

“Wait, what’s going on? Where are you dragging me to exactly?” she exclaimed while looking back at Marcus, who simply shrugged as he shifted Octavia on his hip.

“You’ll see soon enough, I already signed you up and everything but we do need to hurry since I think that they’ve already started.”

“They started what? Also, what do you mean you signed me up? I’m not going to set another step if you don’t tell me what’s going on Bellamy!” She demanded, still confused as to why and more specifically where he was taking her. But the boy simply ignored her questions and continued to walk.

“The first prize is a TV and I really want it so if you could please make an effort.”

“First prize – I don’t understand, what –“ she muttered, only to fall silent when they suddenly came to a halt and she watched how Bellamy addressed a woman in her mid-thirties carrying a headset and a clipboard.

“Here she is,” he announced, “She’s all yours.”

“Ah, you just arrived in time. Here you go,” the woman replied with a small smile before sticking a number on her shirt. “So who do you think you look like?”

Since she still had completely _no_ idea as to what’s going on, she could only stare at the woman and Bellamy. The latter rolled his eyes before answering the question for her.

“Who do you think? Abigail Walters Griffin, of course, everyone can see that,” he said in such a –as-matter-of-fact voice that the woman simply nodded.

“Of course,” she muttered, “Alright, let’s get the First Lady on the stage for the contest shall we.”

_Contest? What contest?_

It’s only then that Abby noticed huge banners hanging from the ceiling;  

CELEBRITY LOOK-ALIKE CONTEST

She felt all the blood draining from her face at the sight, “Bellamy, there’s no way I’m doing this. You can’t make me - ” she started to reply, but the boy cut her off.

“Too little, too late Gail. I already paid the entrance fee. I really want that TV so you better win.”

“I –“

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have one final contestant,” a male announcer, who was already standing on the stage, exclaimed, “Step up number 11! Your name is....?” The guy glanced down at the card the woman with the clipboard had just handed him, “Stacy O’Neil.”

“I made that name up so your ex wouldn’t be able to track you,” Bellamy whispered before pushing Gail towards the stairs.

“Alright Stacy, do step onto the stage, there’s no need to be shy.”

As she put the first step on the stairs towards the stage it felt like _everyone_ currently at the mall turned around and stared at her. Her heart was racing and her legs felt numb.

Her mind was racing with infinite possibilities of how she could escape from this. Perhaps she could run? No, that would draw even more attention to her. Not to mention make her seem even more suspicious. Or, she could fake fainting? Yes, she could totally do that and blame the fainting on the stress of being a part of a competition.

With her decision to faint made, she already started to slightly sway on her legs when Bellamy gave her a final push and suddenly she found herself standing at the end of the line with the other contestants.

_Fuck._

She was definitely going to kill Bellamy for making her do this.

Well, perhaps not kill, but there will definitely be no hot dogs for dinner. A salad sounded like the proper punishment for the boy.

Feeling apprehensive about the whole thing, she noticed the announcer making his way over to her, a broad smile plastered on his face and his microphone ready in his hand.  “So Stacy, why don’t you tell us something about yourself?” He asked while practically pushing the microphone in her face.

Her mind went completely blank. She felt the gaze of dozens of people on her and she could feel herself starting to sweat.

“¿Que “ She muttered after a too long a silence, but the announcer didn’t give up.

“Where are you from? What do you do for a living?”

“No hablo ingles,” she replied, pretending that she didn’t understand or speak English. She prayed that nobody picked up on how her voice was quivering. She could, however, feel Bellamy’s glare burning holes in her back. But tough luck for him, that’s what he gets for forcing her to do this.

The guy gave the woman with the clipboard a helpless look, but Abby simply refused to answer the question.

“She looks like Abigail Walters Griffin, the First Lady,” Bellamy cried out after a minute, finally breaking the uncomfortable silence.

“Well, how about that ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer said, looking relieved that he could go on with the contest, “Do you guys agree? Does our Stacy here look like the First Lady?”

A sense of dread crept into her chest when the crowd started to applause and whistle, clearly agreeing with Bellamy’s suggestion. A bit too enthusiastically for her taste.  

“Looks like we’ve got some real competition going on here ladies and gentlemen. Things might get suspenseful. Who are you guys going to vote for? It’s time to pick your three finalists.”

Abby dared to glance at the other contestants, but none of them resembled any celebrity she could think of. Perhaps the older guy standing two places to her right, he kind of looked like Santa Claus, with the white beard.

“Support your favourites with your applause and don’t forget that this contest is brought to you by your local radio station, FM 2330,” the announcer stated before he called off each of their names and when he finally came to her, the applause was again way too excited for her to feel comfortable with. This was absolutely the kind of attention which she didn’t need at the moment. This could ruin her whole plan of staying _low-key._

“Alright, from the sound of the applause it looks like you guys have made your decision. So here are your three finalists. Give it up for Miss Stevens aka Amy Schumer.”

The crowd clapped.

“And for Mr. Thompson as Santa Claus.”

Again the crowd clapped their hands avidly.

“And lastly make some noise for Miss O’Neil as our beloved First Lady.”

Abby winced when she heard someone actually whistling among the cheers, although when she thought about it, the guy whistling sounded a lot like Marcus. Guess there was another Kane not getting any hot dogs for dinner this evening.

The woman with the clipboard checked the meter she was carrying in her right hand before moving towards the announcer and whispering something in his ear, at which he gave a small nod.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner,” he announced with a broad smile, “the winner of our celebrity look-alike contest, the person taking home a brand new television is none other than...”

 _Please don’t let it be me. Please don’t let it be me –_ was the mantra Abby kept on repeating in her head.

“Mr. Thompson as Santa Clause. Let’s give him a big round of applause everyone.”

_Oh, thank god._

_....._

Wait

W _hat?_

Even though Abby felt relieved that she lost she couldn’t help but feel a little bit conflicted about the result as well.

She lost a competition where she pretended to be _herself??_

 _Huh_ , guess her disguise really worked.

Still feeling slightly stunned at the turn of events, she walked off the stage and started to move towards Marcus and Octavia. The latter was clapping her tiny hands, clearly mimicking the applause she saw all around her, while Marcus smirked at her.

“Hey Stacy wait, don’t leave just yet,” the announcer called out, “You’re our runner up and we have a gift for you as well.”

But Abby simply kept walking, still pretending not to understand English, especially when she spotted several photographers to her left.

“You’re not going to claim your prize for coming in second?” Marcus asked when she stopped in front of him with a small smirk. The asshole.

“I just want to get out of here,” she whispered through gritted teeth.

_There were too many people in here._

“Wait, I thought you only spoke Spanish?” he asked, his voice tinged with mock surprise.

“This is not the best of time to get cute with me _Kane._ Now give me Octavia. I’m getting out of here. You can find Bellamy. Or don’t. I don’t want to see that boy for a while,” she muttered before grabbing Octavia from his grip.

“Hey Stacy, I went to pick up your prize since you had suddenly disappeared. What the heck am I supposed to do with a DVD player since we don’t have a TV,” Bellamy mentioned and Abby had to take a couple of very deep breaths before she was ready to turn around and face the boy.

Throwing him a glare – the type which had made even the current President of the United States nervous - Abby muttered, “Perhaps you can win one when I’ll enter you in a look-alike contest at the next mall we’ll visit.”

“She got you there Bellamy,” Marcus chuckled.

Bellamy frowned, “Yeah, well perhaps if you hadn’t voted for that sad excuse for a Santa Claus we could have won the television.”

That statement definitely took Abby by surprise and she turned her attention towards Marcus with her glare still firmly in place.

“Wait, you voted for him?! But I heard you whistling for me?!”

That man actually had to goddamn nerve to smile at her before replying, “You have to admit he truly did look a little bit like Santa Claus.”

“Are you even serious right now?” she cried out, “I don’t believe you. Since we’ve met, you’ve mentioned _several_ times how much I resembled the First Lady, you even referred to me a milady and now you didn’t even vote for me?!”

Marcus opened his mouth – in all likelihood to throw another sarcastic remark – but she cut him off before he could even utter a single syllable.

“You know what, I just realised I don’t care,” she stated before turning around and marching towards the exit while mumbling under her breath as Octavia started to play with her hair.

* * *

Abby had managed to keep Octavia occupied close by the car when both Bellamy and Marcus came walking from the mall, the boy was still grumbling about what the hell he was supposed to do with her runner-up gift.

“Can we go to a pawn shop?” Bellamy asked after dumping the DVD player in the trunk and stepping into the car.

“Why do you want to go to a pawn shop?” Marcus replied while getting behind the wheel.

“To buy a cake,” the boy muttered with an impressive eye-roll. “To see if we can exchange it for a TV.”

“Why do you want a TV so bad?” Abby couldn’t help but press.

“It’s not for me, it’s for Octavia,” came the boy’s quick reply which further confused her.

“You want to get a TV for your one-year-old sister?”

“Well, yeah. For who else?” He said, giving her his _are you really that dense_ look.

“Oh, I’m sorry. How stupid of me not to immediately think that the TV was going to be a gift for your baby sister. I should have known better,” She muttered sarcastically, eliciting a soft chuckle from Marcus.

The sound did _not_ make her stomach flip. Not at all.

“Well, it is. How else is she going to watch her shows?” Bellamy countered.

“You’ve been showing her stuff on your phone haven’t you?”

“Yeah, but-,” the boy started to reply, only to be cut off by Marcus.

“That’ll have to do Bellamy, we’ve already lost enough time as it is.”

“But-”

“My decision is final,” Marcus said firmly, causing the boy to cross his arms and sulk.

After the short ride back to the garage, Marcus albeit reluctantly paid the bill for Mabel, muttering that this trip had already cost him too much money, but Abby saw the tiny smile on his face when he sat down behind the wheel again.

As she settled Octavia down on the floor - on top of several blankets - she picked up her book and reclaimed her position in the passenger’s seat.

After a couple of seconds, Abby could hear music blasting from the couch, where Bellamy had presumably put his headphones on.

The ride passed in a comfortable silence and before she knew it, they had crossed West Virginia and driven into Ohio.

Around lunchtime, the sky clouded over and it began to rain, forcing Abby to abandon her plans of having yet another picnic.

Which was absolutely fine by both Marcus and Bellamy.

So instead of the nice picnic, Abby had already planned in her head, she made some pasta – which was only slightly overcooked, a huge achievement considering the fact she hadn’t cooked in _years_ – as they continued to drive through the hills of southeastern Ohio.

Octavia remained relatively calm after lunch – or as calm as the girl could be. Her brother, however, kept bugging Marcus to stop at every convenience store, truck stop, or mall they encountered. Always for something different. Then he was thirsty and needed a soda - even though they still had more than enough to drink in the fridge -, then he was hungry or he demanded to stop at a store because he was adamant that they were running low on both  Octavia’s formula and diapers.

To Abby, it almost seemed as if the boy was trying to deliberately postpone their arrival in Iowa. Which not only confused her, but it also made her feel slightly uneasy. Because why wouldn’t he want to stay at his grandmother’s? From what Marcus had mentioned Abby knew that their situation at home was far from ideal so having someone - or in this case, their grandmother- capable to take them in and care for them would be a definite improvement.

Perhaps Bellamy was feeling anxious since he had never seen his grandmother before? Or the letter was a lie, fabricated by the boy and there was no-one waiting for them in Iowa?

Abby shook her head at the absurdity of that last possibility. Why on earth would Bellamy do anything like that? What could have motivated him to do so? Dodging Child & Youth services? But lying and fabricating the letter would have only been a temporary fix since Child & Youth services would still show up after they’d arrive in Iowa at an empty house. Or perhaps the boy thought that after spending a couple of days with Marcus, the man could be persuaded to adopt them. Although, why the boy thought that acting like a grumpy teenager would earn him any favors was a complete mystery to her.

She sneaked a glance towards the boy who was still listening to some music before dismissing her small moment of panic.

_Nah._

He was simply nervous. That’s all. There was no reason for her to overthink Bellamy’s behavior, he was, after all, a teenager.   

And she could tell that Marcus’ patience was running low with the constant stream of questions to stop and she really didn’t want another shouting match between those two. So she went to grab her bag and took out some books she had bought at the mall earlier.

“Here, that should keep you occupied for a while,” she declared while handing him a book.

“You bought me a copy of the _Illiad_?” Bellamy questioned, sounding incredulous as he accepted the book very carefully.

“Yes. You mentioned before that you liked mythology so when I came across the book at the shop I thought of you. I also got you a couple books on Roman mythology and history is you like.”

The boy continued to stare at her, his eyes wide and the longer the staring lasted, the more she began to second guess herself.

“I’m sorry, have you perhaps already read the _Iliad?_ I can give you another one if you’d like,” she suggested while reaching out her hand, ready to take the book back and give him another one.

In response, Bellamy shook his head while hugging the book close to his chest, “No, I haven’t. It’s just – nobody has ever bought a book for me,” he confessed in a small voice, looking in that second more like a little boy than a teenager and Abby could feel her heart clench at the look in his eyes.

“Yes well, now you have,” she replied with a warm smile, which he returned before turning his music back on and opening the book.

After Abby had ensured that Octavia was still safely playing on her blankets she made her way back to the passenger seat.

“I know that I already said it at the store but buying him those books was a nice gesture,” Marcus softly commented.

She shrugged, “Honestly, it’s the least I can do for him. It’s just sad that he never owned a book before.”

Marcus hummed in agreement.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get your picnic, I know you were looking forward to it,” he added after a minute.

“No you’re not,” she replied with a smile, “But since it looks like it’s clearing up we can have a picnic for dinner.”

“Can’t wait.”

“Hmm, I’m sure you can’t,” she teased him before opening her book.

“About last night –” he started to say.

“Marcus –”

“No please let me,” he pleaded, his eyes still firmly on the road and she could simply _feel_ the tension rolling off him in waves.

“Alright.”

“I’m sorry if I - if I overstepped some boundaries or made you feel uncomfortable. That was never my intention. However, I meant what I said about finding you attractive. I wasn’t merely saying things just to kiss or seduce you,” he explained and she could feel heat rushing to her cheeks.

“Well, thank you and you didn’t make me feel uncomfortable.”  

“Good, I’m glad,” he said, “But my offer still stands though,” he continued and when no response came, he clarified, “About giving a demonstration about just how attractive I find you.”

“Ah.”

Which was truly the only thing she could reply since her mind was completely blank. How did one reply to such a statement? Especially since they barely knew each other. Not to forget that she’d been telling the truth last night, men usually weren’t upfront with her, they wouldn’t even dream of being this direct.

“That’s uh good to know,” she managed to stammer after some silence.

“Thought so,” he quipped while having the audacity to wink at her before turning his gaze back on the road.

Not knowing how to behave Abby instead decided to hide her face behind her book, as she tried to calm her racing heart.

\--

Unknown to both adults Bellamy had been observing them and their conversation from his position on the couch. He hadn’t been able to hear everything they said, but he did notice the blush on Gail’s cheeks or how nervous Kane had to be, or at least initially.

An idea – or rather a plan – started to form in his head. Neither of them were married or seeing someone. He had done some online research on Kane and he hadn’t found anything except a picture of an ex-girlfriend some two years ago. As for Gail - well her situation was pretty obvious.

Sure Kane was obnoxious and bossy, but out of all of Aurora’s _conquests,_ he was definitely the most reliable. And even though he tried to pretend to be this tough, _I don’t care about anyone except myself_ \- Bellamy could tell that he cared at least a little bit about him and his sister. As for  Gail, now that he knew that she wasn’t pregnant the odds of her taking care of Octavia had actually increased because now she’d only have to take care of one child instead of two. Sure she still knew very little about babies but he had noticed that she was a lot less nervous around his sister, she didn’t look terrified any longer when she picked Octavia up. And Gail was always making sure that his sister couldn’t hurt herself. She had also gone against Kane a couple of times without expecting or wanting anything in return. She even bought him books because she knew he was interested in the subject. So Gail was definitely alright, for an adult.

The fact that neither of them were drunks who spend all of their money on alcohol was a definite bonus as well. He would _never_ leave his sister in their hands if they were.

All he needed to do know was to get them together. To make them admit their attraction for each other and act on it. How he was supposed to make that happen was still a mystery but he knew that he could trust both of them to take care of Octavia. Maybe they would even get married and adopt Octavia as their own. Because why wouldn’t they? She was an adorable baby, very adaptable. She wasn’t a grumpy teenager with lots of issues like himself. He’d stick around until they made a move and then he could take off, go to New York or something and start to earn some money.

At the thought of leaving his sister behind Bellamy felt his heart ache. But there was no point on dwelling on it. He had to do what was best for Octavia, his own feelings were less important. Kane and Gail were adults who could provide for her and take better care for her than he ever could.

The longer Bellamy thought over his plan, the more he became convinced that this was his best option. Well, his only option really. He just needed to make sure that they made a move before they reached Iowa. Because after that….when Kane and Gail found out about his lie - then there would be no hope left. So he had to act fast.

Not for the first time in his life, Bellamy wished for another life. He wished that he could have had a normal childhood with a mother who actually cared and showed affection towards him. But unfortunately, things hadn’t turned out that way.

Now, how the heck was he going to have Kane and Gail admit their attraction to each other?

But how? It’s not like he could lock them up somewhere.

….or could he?

No, no that was a bad idea. Locking them up together would only blow up in his face.

So how was he going to push them together? While delaying their arrival in Iowa?

Luckily an hour later his sister decided that she finally had enough of sitting on the ground, or in her chair, or on the couch and started crying. Not even a short nap helped.

After more than half an hour of her crying, they were all in dire need of a break so Kane didn’t need any convincing to stop at the first camping ground they encountered.

* * *

With a relieved sigh Marcus found a relatively remote spot before parking Mabel. His acute awareness of Gail combined with Octavia’s crying had made him grumpy and his head felt like it was getting hit repeatedly by a hammer.

All day he hadn’t been able to _not_ have his eyes flicker towards Gail. He kept noticing little things.  How her hair fell around her face or the subtle smell of her perfume. The way she crossed her legs while reading. How her eyes crinkled as she smiled, the softness in her voice while addressing both Bellamy and Octavia. Or the glimpses of curves he spotted beneath those ridiculous baggy clothes she insisted on wearing, even though they now know that she wasn’t pregnant.

She had been effectively driving him absolutely insane and he was certain that she didn’t even have a clue what she doing to him.

Although he respected her decision from last night, he still couldn’t help but wonder what she tasted like. If her skin was as soft as it looked.

“Shh darling, no need to cry. What’s wrong Octavia?” Gail sushed the girl, grabbing his attention and Marcus watched how she bend forward to pick Octavia up and his eyes were drawn to her ass.

_Fuck, he really needed some fresh air._

Swiftly getting up from behind the wheel he muttered something to Gail before stepping outside and taking a much needed deep gulp of air.

As Marcus looked around the camping ground, he was glad that it was a relatively small one, he was in no mood for being surrounded by a bunch of people. They could have some privacy here.

He had barely finished that thought when he noticed an elderly lady walking - well _marching_ was the more accurate term - into his direction. She wasn’t too tall and she wore a bright floral top, some beige shorts, and white sneakers. She was also smiling widely and waving at him. A tall and elderly man followed her - presumably her husband.

Marcus could feel his plans for solitude crumble down. The woman had a very determined look on her face.

“Well hello there, didn’t I tell you that I saw a new motorhome Brad?” She utterer while glancing back at the man - Brad - who simply gave her an indulging smile in response.

“We were hoping that a young family might camp next to us. There are too many elderly people around here - If I wanted to talk to an old person I’d talk to myself in the mirror or to Brad,” the woman chuckled and Marcus couldn’t help but laugh back. “I’m Denise and that one-“ she pointed over her shoulder, “That’s my husband Brad. We’re the Patterson’s. Nice to meet you. What’s your name?”

Just as he opened his mouth to answer, the door of Mabel opened and Gail exited looking flustered while carrying a distraught Octavia in her arms. The girl was wriggling in her grip and her cheeks were still wet from crying.

“Marcus, could you perhaps -,” she started to ask only to trail off when her eyes landed on the elderly couple standing to the left of her. “Oh hello.”

“Hello dear, I’m Denise and this is my husband Brad.  Your little one seems to in quite a mood. Our youngest granddaughter used to have those as well. Crying for hours and we couldn’t quite figure out why. I found that rocking her in a certain way helped to calm her down. Do you want me to show you? If you hand her to me I can show you,” Denise proposed with a warm smile but there was no way Marcus was going to have a complete stranger - no matter how friendly she looked - to carry Octavia.

The hypocrisy of that thought didn’t go unnoticed by him since he had been absolutely fine with having Gail coming along and taking care of both Octavia and her brother.

He swiftly took Octavia into his own arms.

“Shut it O,”

Eyes wide, Octavia stared at him but she stopped crying, only a small whimper escaped her lips.

“That’s better,” he muttered and the girl started to munch on her fist, still silently hiccupping.

“Well, won’t you look at that Brad. He does seem to have a way with the little darling, doesn’t he? That’s just not fair is it,” she uttered with a conspiratorial look at Gail, “We go through so much trouble with not only carrying them for nine months but also giving birth and then they turn out to be complete daddy girls.”

Gail looked taken aback,  “Oh no, I’m not – we’re not – I mean -“

“Mom? Dad? Thank you so much for the book about Greek mythology. You were right, it _is_ educational. Oh hello, I’m Bellamy Kane, nice to meet you,” the boy announced while stepping out of the motorhome, leaving both of his ‘parents’ to stare at him in complete disbelief.

“Well hello, young man. Aren’t you polite?!” Denise gushed.

“Why thank you so much. It’s all thanks to them really,” he exclaimed with a nod towards Marcus and Abby.

Denise smiled. “How about you folks come over for dinner? I’m making my famous casserole and we’d be delighted if you joined us. I also make way too much as it is.”

Both adults were still processing the fact that Bellamy had referred to them as mom and dad, so the boy took it upon himself to reply.

“We’d love to. Won’t we mom?” he said while glancing at her.

Gail managed to stammer a quiet, “Uhm, yes. Yes, we would,’ before looking at Marcus who was still too dumbfounded to say anything and she gave a small shrug in response.

“Excellent! I already put the casserole in the oven so it won’t take too long before it’s done. How about you come back with us Bellamy? I’m sure Brad has some books you might find interested. That way your parents can clean your sister up?”

“Great idea,” the boy agreed while at the same time Marcus - seemingly having found his voice again - started with, “We’re not –” only to fall silent when he felt Gail’s hand on his arm, as she gave him an almost imperceptible shake of her head.

“Uhm, alright then,” he ended up muttering.

“Excellent. We’re at the far right of the camping ground. You can’t miss us, our motorhome is a bright red. We’ll see you folks later then,” Denise stated before her and Brad started to walk back the way they came.

“Yep, bye mom and dad,” Bellamy cheekily said before turning around and following the couple.

“What the heck just happened? And why did you accept their offer to have dinner?” Marcus hissed when they were far enough away.

“I think Bellamy was simply messing with us. As for your second question, you accepted as well. Don’t blame this all on me. Besides they seem nice enough,” she threw back.

“Wait, shouldn’t we take something with us?” she asked, looking worried all of a sudden before dashing back inside of Mabel.

Marcus could hear her rummaging through the cabinets and with a sigh, he followed her back.

“Calm down, we’re having a meal on a camping site. I doubt they’ll expect anything in return,” he mentioned while setting Octavia down on her blanket, closing the door safely behind him.

“Perhaps, but it’s still nice to bring something. It’s the polite thing to do. Besides, it’s the gesture that counts.”

Marcus rolled his eyes. Of course, she would think that way.

“How about this?”

He watched as she took out a bag of Cheerios out of the top cabinet.

“Really? That’s what you’re going take with you?”

“Well, it’s either this or a bottle of Octavia’s formula.”

“Hmm, chips or baby food, such a difficult decision to make.”

She smiled at him and for a moment Marcus couldn’t do anything else but look back at her. At first, she held his gaze bit then he could tell she became self-conscious since she averted her eyes.

He felt a thrill of excitement go through him at seeing her blush. Wanting to be closer to her, Marcus took two steps towards her until he well within her personal space.

Still looking down, Abby felt his hand coming to rest on her waist. At the touch, she felt her heartbeat accelerate.

One moment they had been having a careless moment and then suddenly the atmosphere had changed and tension had seeped into the room.

She felt his breath falling softly against her cheek and the brush of his fingertips on her chin, gently tilting her head until their gazes locked.

He was wearing a soft smile which made her insides feel warm.

It had been so long since a man had looked at her like this. Even Jake, whom she had loved with every fiber of her being had never quite looked her like this, had never taken her breath away with a single look.

Eyes flickering towards his lips, Abby felt herself inching closer.

There were a million reasons why this was a bad idea running through her mind. Why they shouldn’t do this.

He didn’t know who she truly was.

They only met each other three days ago.

Most of the times she wanted to punch him because he could be a real jerk.

And yet, something about this felt _right,_ because god the way he made her feel - so alive and _desired._ It was intoxicating.

She had followed the rules her entire life - well most of the time she had - and look where it had brought her. With an assassinated husband and on the run for the President of the United States.

It was time she stopped holding herself back. That had been the sole reason for escaping the White House. She wanted to get reacquainted with herself, to truly be herself. And if that meant kissing an attractive yet infuriating man, so be it.

Feeling a surge of bravery Abby cupped his head in her hands, thumbs caressing his beard before pulling him down until she could seal her mouth across his - effectively swallowing his surprised gasp.

 _Yes._ This was how it was supposed to feel to kiss someone.

Marcus’ hands moved across her back, with his fingers tracing her spine, causing goosebumps to appear all over her body. They both lost themselves in the kiss.

His lips parted and so did hers. His tongue demanded access and she gladly yielded, pressing her chest against his.

Their kiss was deep and so lusty Abby didn’t have the time to overthink. Her fingers dug into his hair and when Marcus slipped his fingers beneath her top, she groaned into his mouth.

One of his hands dipped lower again until he could palm her ass and push their hips together.

A soft gasp escaped her lips at the feel of his erection and her hips instinctively bucked, needing and chasing friction. Wanting to hear her again, he moved his hips again and the throaty moan he got in response made his blood sing.

She tasted absolutely divine and he could already feel himself getting addicted to the way her lips felt against his.

“Da? Da?”

Her breathy sounds and the small movements of her hips were driving him wild with desire.

“Da!”

He could feel Gail tensing up against him as sharp nails dug into his lower leg. She quickly jerked away from him. Her lips were wet and swollen, her chest heaving and cheeks flushed.

Both of them gazed down at Octavia who was staring at them with a look of sheer disapproval, her brow furrowed and Marcus wanted to throw his head back and laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“Oh my god. She knows what we were doing,” Gail whispered, looking embarrassed and all Marcus wanted to do was to gather her back into his arms and kiss her again.

“She’s one, I highly doubt it,” he replied, but she took a step backward before bending down and gathering the little girl in her arms.

“Oh, I’m so sorry darling. You shouldn’t have seen that. Not that there’s anything wrong when two consensual adults kiss but – uh – still. You’re too young,” Gail stammered and Marcus watched in amusement as she tried to explain what they’d been doing to Octavia.

“Come on, let's go before Bellamy comes back to see what's taking us so long." 

“Hmm,” he murmured before stepping aside so she could pass. “Oh, Gail?” He couldn't help but say, making her turn around and glance back at him.

“Yes?”

“Just to know that when the kids are asleep tonight we're most definitely going to pick this back up," he promised with a small smile, loving the way she blushed while biting on her lower lip.

"Looking forward to it," she whispered before opening the door and stepping outside.

 _So do I -_ Marcus thought as he followed her. _So do I._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and/or kudos are much appreciated.


	8. Where is Abigail Walters Griffin hiding?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that I say this with every update but thank you all so much for the hits, kudos and comments. I'm so happy that you guys are loving the story so far.
> 
> In this chapter the plot thickens my dears. The disappearance of Abigail Walters Griffin becomes worldwide news and let's just say that certain people are starting to become slightly suspicious....
> 
> Also the chapter is a little bit longer than usual so enjoy that as well ;)

As Bellamy laughed at some _typical old people_ joke Brad was telling him while making wide gestures with his hands he wondered if this is what it felt like to have grandparents.

Sure their fashion style was atrocious and Denise definitely took floral patterns as an interior design way too far and they were slightly dopey, but they were also friendly and welcoming. They seemed genuinely interested in the things he had to say. The fact that Denise had been giving him homemade lemonade and cookies didn’t hurt either.

As he watched the elderly couple interact Bellamy wished that if things didn’t work out between Kane and Gail he could ask the Thompsons to take care of Octavia. If they only weren’t so old, they were already in their seventies, not a great age to raise a one-year-old girl.

Just as his demeanor threatened to sour he noticed Gail and Kane walking towards them, with Octavia safely in Gail’s arms. Something seemed different between the adults but Bellamy couldn’t immediately pinpoint _what_ had changed. Not until they came closer and he took in Gail’s flushed cheeks, Kane’s ruffled hair and their swollen lips. Understanding that they had kissed, his heart did a little jump of excitement. Perhaps things would work out between them after all.

“Ah, there they are,” Denise exclaimed, “Gail hun why don’t you settle down over here with the girl and Marcus could you be a doll and help Brad with the cooler? The doctor said that he isn’t supposed to lift anything too heavy, but do you think he listens? Of course he doesn’t.”

Brad rolled his eyes good-heartedly behind his wife’s back, “It’s not that heavy darling.”

“You say that now, but I can already hear you complaining later tonight,” Denise teased her husband at which he scoffed.

“It’s alright, I don’t mind helping,” Marcus said with a small smile towards Denise, which the older woman returned before sitting down next to Gail.

“You know you really look familiar dear. Don’t you think she looks familiar Brad?”

The man hummed while moving the cooler together with Marcus.

“She looks like the First Lady, although not everyone agreed,” Bellamy grumbled, still upset about not having won the television earlier today.

“Goodness gracious you’re right Bellamy, she does look like Mrs. Griffin,” Denise agreed, “If she changed her hair and clothes those two could be practically twins. Don’t you think so Brad?” She continued, to which her husband merely nodded in response.

Abby was starting to feel uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was going, and Denise’s close scrutiny so she - albeit clumsily - approached a new subject.

“I’m sorry I didn’t bring anything with me to dinner” she started but the elderly woman simply waved her apology again.

“That’s alright dear. It was short notice after all. Besides I always make too much anyway, I’m still used of cooking for a larger group,” she explained with a warm smile, “Speaking of which, I think the casserole should be ready by now. I’ll go check, so if you folks will excuse me for a second.”

While they were waiting on Denise to come back Abby and Marcus kept exchanging glances, glances which made her feel both flustered and excited for when the kids would finally go to bed.

It didn’t take long before Denise returned with a steaming platter and after everyone had gotten a very generous piece of casserole, they all tucked in, quietly enjoying the food which was absolutely delicious.

As the dinner continued Abby couldn’t help but compare it with all of the state dinners she’d been at. Usually, those dinners were a strict and sometimes boring affair, depending on whom she was seated next to. Conversations tended to be very superficial and polite - which was surprising considering the fact that most of the times it was a table filled with influential people who held significant power, political, economic or otherwise. Which is why tonight’s dinner was so pleasantly different. The Thompsons weren’t shy about sharing their personal lives, Abby now knew everything about their four children - Josie, Ben, Angelica and Dirk - and their nine grandchildren - Amelia, Oscar, David, Lorelai, Anne, Kathy, William, Alex and Martin - and she had seen numerous pictures as well.

By the time darkness had fallen, they had moved on from personal stories to their opinions on the current political state the United States was in. It warmed her heart that both the Thompsons and even Marcus fondly remembered Jake and his too-brief tenure as President. She was also secretly pleased that they shared her own opinion on Jaha’s administration so far. It was too conservative with too little focus on issues such as climate, gender and health care. Jaha was going a completely different route than Jake had initially planned and no wonder the American public wasn't pleased. These weren’t the policies the majority of them had voted for.

“Politicians as mostly self-serving and willing to sell out their voters if it benefited them,” Marcus stated, earning nods from the Thompsons.

Abby had been keeping quiet throughout the conversation because she didn’t want to make Marcus even more suspicious of her as ‘Gail.’ But unfortunately, her lack of voicing an opinion hadn’t gone unnoticed by him.

“You’ve been oddly quiet Gail,” Marcus remarked, “Especially since you normally don’t shy away from sharing your thoughts about something. I would have thought you’d have something to say about our political system as well.”

Oh, she most definitely had. Because even though Marcus had made some valid points about a certain degree of politicians and their incapability to deliver on their promises there was also another side. A side on which politicians  were still willing to fight for the American people. As Abigail Walters Griffin she could talk for hours and hours about politics, both national and international but she couldn’t as Gail Turner, at least not in the extent she wanted so instead she replied with;

“I do think that the political life can be an honorable one.”

A statement which earned her three almost identical looks of disbelief, as if they couldn’t understand her nativity. But she had seen the other side, had witnessed those politicians who poured their heart into their public service.

“Maybe 50 years ago but certainly not now,” Marcus threw back.

“I do agree with some of your points Marcus. There are politicians who are merely focused on what’s best for them but you can’t push aside those who do care, who do invest all of their time and effort into their jobs and who actually want to help the American people,” she argued.

The response to her is still a little bit doubtful, but none of them flat out disagree. Which is progress and she’ll take every single bit she can.

Since dinner was coming to a close they all pitched in for the cleaning - well everyone except Octavia of course, she was too busy playing in the grass with Brad.

“Well, how about you look at that. They have a television,” Bellamy couldn’t help but remark as he carried the plates inside of the Thompsons’ motor home.

“Perhaps they could use your DVD Player,” Gail threw back without missing a single beat and Bellamy narrowed his eyes at her sarcasm.

“Too much television isn’t good for your brain. Reading is much better,” Denise stated in a very grandmotherly manner.

When Octavia started to yawn, Abby knew it was time for them all the say their goodbyes. Which they did, hugs were exchanged - even Bellamy didn’t escape a hug from Denise - and then it was time to make the short walk towards Mabel. Only Marcus stayed behind since he offered to help Brad with storing the larger furniture.  

Abby carried a sleepy Octavia in her arms but unfortunately the girl still needed a bath before going to bed, she was still dirty from crawling through the grass at the Thompsons’ motor home. Which wasn’t something the girl was too happy about, she kept fussing all through her bath, but in the end Abby managed to get her marginally clean, before putting on a new diaper and changing her into her onesie. But try as she might, Octavia wouldn’t accept Abby feeding her a bottle, the girl kept reaching over to Bellamy. The boy relented in the end and he took his sister into his arms before feeding her the bottle and even though she would never admit it, being rejected by Octavia hurt Abby more than she had thought it would.

Which surprised her since she was still scared every time she held the girl in her arms and she lived in constant fear of the girl hurting herself or getting sick. Perhaps Octavia could sense that something was wrong with her. That she had held babies in her arms who later on died. Shaking her head as an attempt to shake off her sudden uneasiness Abby started to clean Mabel, just until Octavia had finished her bottle and the siblings had gone to bed.

Wanting to take advantage of the fact that Marcus hadn’t returned just yet - his earlier promise of picking things back up still fresh in her head - she decided to take a quick shower. As the warm water cascaded over her, Abby couldn’t help but remember how Marcus had tasted. Or the feeling of being pressed against his firm chest. The sensation of his beard scraping against her skin made her body flush and she felt an ache between her thighs - something she hadn’t felt in a long time. She wished she could slip her fingers between her thighs and caress her aroused skin but she couldn’t. Not with two children sleeping in the room next to her and not knowing when Marcus might return. Besides she didn’t think she would be able to keep quiet and she’d be absolutely mortified if anyone heard her.

So with a sigh, she turned the water off before stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around her. Her mind was filled with conflicting emotions. She had learned so much these past days. Living in someone else’s skin by simply changing her appearance and name had been the best decision she had made in a long time and Abby prayed that it wouldn’t end just yet. But what if it did? When if tomorrow the Secret Service found her and she’d have to go back to the White House? How could she ever go back? Go back to playing the First Lady for Jaha and the rest of the American people? She hoped that she’d have some more days of freedom left. She wasn’t ready to see goodbye to Gail Turner and most importantly she didn’t want to leave Octavia, Bellamy and Marcus.

* * *

Sinclair carelessly dropped his bag on the floor before practically collapsing on the bed. Both he and his partner had yet another unsuccessful day of tracing the First Lady’s steps. He couldn’t even remember the number of truck stops they’d done today. While loosening his tie, he grabbed the file on the First Lady out of his briefcase. As expected forensics had found Abigail Walters Griffins fingerprints all over the dark brown Chevrolet, but they hadn’t found any traces of blood, which was very comforting. Her phone call to the President where she had insisted that John Carter had nothing to do with her disappearance and she had left on her own free will, was sounding more and more plausible. Even if that was not what both the President and Senator Walters wanted to hear. They were still adamant that Abigail had been forced to leave the White House. But to a certain degree - and he would deny this until the end of his life - Sinclair could sympathize with the First Lady if she had decided to leave on her own accord. President Jaha was the opposite of her former husband and just too slick for Sinclair’s taste. The way the President had ordered him, the head of the CIA, to go out in the field personally rubbed him the wrong way as well. As if his agents weren’t qualified to search for a missing person, no matter how high their profile was. It was an insult not only to the CIA but also to his tenure as the head of the agency.

Rubbing his eyes he continued to read the file until his phone rang and his partner’s name, Byrne, appeared on the screen.

With a smile Sinclair picked up, “Did you already forget my order?”

“No, I already got your cheeseburger. Could you turn your television on?”

“What why?”

“You’ll see, the channel is of no importance since I’m sure that everyone is already reporting it.”

Confused but also curious Sinclair searched for the remote and turned the television on, CNN immediately appeared.

“Good evening, this is An Case with a special report from the White House. We’ve only just found out, through very reliable sources, that our First Lady - Abigail Walters Griffin - hasn’t been seen since last Thursday the 7th of October.”

“Shit,” Sinclair exclaimed while changing channels, but every single one of them was reporting the same story.

“I know. You know what this means right?” His partner sighed on the other end of the line.

“That we can expect a very angry phone call from the President,” Sinclair replied with a groan, already feeling a headache starting at the base of his skull.

“Absolutely.”

Not looking forward to the inevitable call at all, Sinclair changed the channel once again.

_Just where did First Lady Abigail Walters Griffin wander off to? According to several reliable sources, the First Lady hasn't been seen in person in over three days. Her chief of staff, Callie Cartwig, had announced last Friday that the First Lady was bedridden due to the flu but that was apparently a lie fabricated by the White House in order not to alarm the American public. The First Lady hasn’t been seen in the White House, nor in the Walters estate in Michigan or the home she shared with her former husband in Virginia. Now we can’t say for certain that Mrs. Griffin has been taken by force from the White House or if she has left on her own accord. All we know is that the last time the First Lady has been seen was on Thursday the 7th of October and that she’s without any of her bodyguards. So far the Jaha administration has refused to comment. We will keep you updated._

“This is not going to make our jobs easier is it?” Sinclair heard his partner mutter.

“Not really. On the plus side now that the word is out, people will be on the lookout and she’ll have fewer places to hide. On the other hand, now everyone knows that she’s out there _alone._ I just hate to think what could happen if someone sees her and decides to, I don’t know, kidnap her and demand ransom or some other shit,” Sinclair said, already fearing the amounts of false leads they’ll get from ‘concerned’ citizens.

“Yeah. Also while waiting in line I came across an interesting article. I’ll be at the motel in five.”

“Alright, see you soon,” Sinclair replied before ending the call.

_Why did he have to join the CIA? Why couldn’t he have chosen a less stressful career?_

A couple of minutes later, Agent Byrne entered the room carrying a bag of McDonald's in one hand and a printed out piece of paper in the other one.

“Here take a look at this.”

Taking out his glasses, Sinclair read the headline, “Santa look-alike wins a local contest? Byrne, why am I reading this?”

“Just look at the face at the far left of the picture, I circled it.”

He scrunched his eyes and put the paper closer to his face, “Whoa,” he exclaimed when he immediately recognized the female.

“Yeah.”

“She looks exactly like -”

“I know.”

“Where did you find this?”

“I was browsing through local news sites, searching for specific keywords and this article came up. Apparently, her name’s Stacy O’Neil, she’s Hispanic and she was there with two children and a guy who appeared to be her husband. Now I’m not saying it _is_ the First Lady but the resemblance is staggering. But what I don’t get is, why would she enter a look-alike contest as the First Lady if she was on the run?”

“Perhaps it wasn’t her idea? From what I can read in the article Stacy was signed up by the teenager. So she could have been caught off guard. Besides, you said she was Hispanic? How many Hispanic people do you know who resemble the First Lady - who’s Caucasian - and with a name like O’Neil?” Sinclair countered before putting the article down on the nearby table.

“So what’s your plan then?” Byrne asked while opening the bag from McDonald's and handing him his dinner.

“I think we need to track down those involved in the contest and ask a couple of questions. Because the story of the First Lady’s disappearance is now public knowledge we’ll need actual leads and you know that the President will not leave us alone and probably demand hourly updates,” Sinclair proposed, “But not tonight. We’ve done enough for today. Besides I’m certain that at the moment the First Lady isn’t in any danger. She has called her Chief of Staff earlier today and she didn’t sound distressed. Let’s just enjoy dinner and turn in early. We’re going to need all the sleep we can if we want her as soon as possible.”

“I agree, so first thing in the morning then? Around six?” Byrne suggested as she said down with her own food.

“Sounds good.”

* * *

As Marcus watched the newsreel on the disappearance of the First Lady back at the Thompsons’ motor home he felt his neck tingling. Which only happened when he was onto something story-wise if he had a new lead. But now it confused him.

Sure the timing of the First Lady’s disappearance and her resemblance to Gail was remarkable but that was all it was. One big coincidence. Because Gail couldn’t possibly be the First Lady. Or could she?

No, of course not. Marcus shook his head as if by doing so he could shake off the feeling that there was more to Gail that she had told him so far.

And even though he didn’t want to, he still couldn’t stop himself from making a mental comparison between Gail Turner and Abigail Walters Griffin. At first glance, there were many similarities, especially in the way they looked. The way Gail sometimes moved or talked reminded him of the First Lady as well. And her extended knowledge on previous American Presidents, the history of parks, cities and states, made alarm bells go off in his head. How could a woman who barely knew how to do daily things like washing clothes, how a stove worked or that you have to _pay_ for things, knew numerous of facts that you couldn’t even find in a Trivial Pursuit game?

But other than those elements, that’s where the likeness ended. Where the First Lady appeared almost snobbish and aloof, Gail was the opposite - she was funny and approachable. And if his memory was correct the First Lady was also at least an inch or two taller than Gail. But the most important reason why Gail couldn’t possibly be the First Lady is that Abigail Walters Griffin would _never_ let a guy like himself kiss her. Never.

Marcus chuckled to himself. Sure if Gail changed her hair, put on some makeup and a designer suit he was certain she could walk into the White House and nobody would blink an eye. Which would make quite the story. Imagine that, a civilian woman disguising herself as the First Lady and slipping into the White House unnoticed.

He opened to door to Mabel, his mouth already open to tell Gail about his ridiculous idea only to halt when he saw her sitting on the couch, with her legs curled beneath her. She was reading and her right hand was almost absentmindedly playing with a strand of hair. She looked so beautiful, so delicate and his neck wouldn’t stop prickling.

She looked very much like Abigail Walters Griffin.

“Hi.”

Gail looked up with a smile on her face before closing the book and leaning forward.

“Took you long enough, I was starting to get a bit worried. Did Denise offer you another piece of casserole?” She asked as she slipped her legs from beneath her.

At the sight of the purple woolen socks she was wearing, the image of the First Lady disappeared and she was Gail Turner again. The woman he had been thinking off the entire day, the woman he desperately wanted to kiss again.

Marcus shook his head, “No thank god not. I don’t think I could have eaten one more bite,” he said and they shared a smile.

“The kids?”

“They’re asleep.”

“Good. That’s good,” he murmured back.

“Is there something wrong?”

The question took him by surprise, “No. why would you think that?”

“I don’t know. You just had a look on your face when you first came in,” Gail shrugged.

For a split second Marcus thought about telling her but in the end, he decided against it. It was ridiculous anyway.

“I’m fine, just a bit tired.”

She seemed to believe him because she rose from the couch with a small nod and he could see her silhouette through the nightgown. Which made him forget about the First Lady all together and brought him back to his earlier promise.

Gail must have spotted the desire in his eyes because she started to blush as she walked towards him.

“Marcus, this is not - there are two children behind that door,” she softly whispered as she came to a halt in front of him.

Reaching out, he let his fingers graze her cheek. “I know.”

“We can’t - not here...,” she sighed before tilting her head back as Marcus started to pepper the skin of her throat with scratchy kisses, causing her to grip his hair and press his lips firmer against her.

“I know,” he whispered against her skin. “Let’s go for a walk.”

Gail pulled back, “For a walk? Marcus, I’m in my nightgown,” she stated, her voice low and slightly husky because of _him._ And the knowledge shouldn’t have turned him on as much as it did.

He shrugged, “So? Everyone is already asleep. You can borrow one of my coats. It’s dark Gail, no-one will see us.”

“Still, I don’t -“

‘If you’re worried about leaving the kids alone, there’s a little path to the left and that way we can keep our eyes on Mabel at all times.”

That seemed to put her mind at ease because her lips curled into a smile, “Alright, I’ll go and put on a coat and some shoes.”

Minutes later they were walking side by side and Abby felt giddy like she was a teenager all alone for the first time with a boy she liked.

“Why don’t you hold my hand, that why you can’t trip in the dark,” Marcus offered after a moment.

Abby bit down on her lip. She didn’t believe that she was in any danger of tripping over things but perhaps that wasn’t the reason and Marcus simply wanted to hold her hand. Feeling a giggle bubbling up she slipped her hand into his and she immediately loved how much bigger his hand was.

“I had a great time tonight.”

“Even without having a picnic?” Marcus couldn’t help but teasingly ask and she rolled her eyes at the smirk on his face.

“Yes even without a picnic.”

“That’s good,” he replied, “And although I hate to admit it, I enjoyed myself as well. Denise and Brad made it impossible _not_ to like them.”

At that Abby smiled, “You? Enjoying talking to people? What a miracle.”

“Ha ha. Very funny,” Marcus muttered but it was with said with a slight smile. “I did though and did you see how Denise kept fussing over Bellamy?”

Abby chuckled, “I did and he didn’t even grumble or swear once.”

“Hmm.”

Marcus slowed down and just as she was about to ask if something was wrong, he turned towards her and whispered. “Come, when coming back from the Thompsons I found a lovely spot, you’ll love it.”

The husky note in his voice made her shiver and with a small nod, she followed. They came across a path which was albeit a bit more secluded still made it possible for Abby to keep an eye on Mabel.

Well until Marcus - without letting go of her hand - turned her until her back was against a large tree trunk, his hands placed on each side of her head with a smile on his face.

And then he kissed her

It was urgent. It was sensuous. It made her feel wanton.

His hands roved over her body and his touch ignited a fire deep inside of her.  

“God, I couldn’t stop thinking off you today,” he whispered against her mouth before pressing little kisses and rubbing his beard all over her throat, causing a shudder to wrack through her.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he continued to roughly mutter while slipping a hand beneath the coat she was wearing and palming a breast.

Abby was running high on sensations. The feeling of his hand caressing her breast, of his mouth nipping and kissing her skin, the warmth which radiated from him, the softness of his hair where she had tangled her hands in. It was all too much for her to wrap her head around. But at the same time; it wasn’t enough. She was craving for _more._

She wanted skin on skin contact. Wanted to elevate the ache between her legs. Marcus, she didn’t know how ecaxtly,  but he seemed to sense where she needed his touch the most because one of his hands stroked his way down her chest until he could reach beneath her nightgown and caress her through her panties.

“You’re wet,” he spoke in hushed tones, his voice a mix of arousal and astonishment.

She didn’t have time to get self-conscious about her body’s response because the second Marcus began to stroke her through the damp cotton of her underwear, her mind went blank as pleasure took over. Her legs parted on their own volition as she maneuvered his head until she could capture his lips in another kiss.

When he broke the kiss to take a deep breath, he whispered, “Take them off.”

The demand broke through the haze of lust which was muddling her brain.

“Marcus, we’re outside.”

“And? We’re all alone and I’m blocking you from sight,” he said, never once stopping the movement of his fingers but she still hesitated.

“Take them off and hand them to me,” he commanded and the roughness of his voice thrilled her.

Abby decided to throw caution in the wind - she trusted Marcus to make sure that if someone happened to walk, he’d cover her up - so she slightly bent forward until she could slip her panties down her legs. Marcus took them from her before shoving them in his pocket.

“Don’t move,” he breathed before kissing the nape of her neck as his hands cupped her ass and pushed the lower parts of their bodies together.

Abby moaned at the feeling of his erection and she couldn’t help but buck her hips against his, needing more friction.

“How come I’m the only one who had to take off a piece of clothing?”

His answer was a rumbling chuckle, “I’m not taking anything off. Are you crazy? We’re outside. What if someone walked by?”

Abby huffed before slapping his chest, “I hate you.”

“No you don’t,” Marcus grinned before leaning down and kissing her again.

His palms moved along her back, his fingers caressing her spine and she shivered at the sensation.

“Do you have any idea what I want to do with you?”

Abby had a pretty good idea but because of she was so aroused she was feeling rather reckless. She wanted to hear him confess all the things he wanted to do to her. The desire to know every single dirty and sexual detail was almost overwhelming.

“Tell me,” she muttered before capturing his lips in a bruising kiss. There was a split second of surprise on Marcus’ side before he smiled against her lips and responded just as enthusiastically to the kiss.

When the need for air became too strong, they broke for air but Marcus’ mouth didn’t stay idle for long. He started to murmur all the things he wanted to do to her while kissing her throat, the sensitive skin beneath her ear, between her breasts, the underside of her jaw and her head was swimming with the mental images provided by him. All the while his fingers hadn’t stopped their slow and torturous pace between her legs.

Slowly but surely Abby could feel her orgasm building. Each stroke of his fingers - between her lips, circling her clit or dipping inside of her - brought her closer and closer. A small sob of pleasure escaped her lips.

“Yes, like that. Please Marcus, don’t stop.”

She felt his responding smile against her breast as he wrapped her lips around her nipple - the sensation slightly dulled by the fabric - and sucked.

_Oh fuck._

She had no idea it could feel like this. That she could feel this good.

“Let go,” Marcus ordered softly and with one final stroke, Abby could feel her orgasm wash over her like waves. When the first one hit her she stiffened in his arms before letting out a ragged cry, but then another wave of pleasure hit her, and another, making her shudder and tremble combined with breathless exclamations of his name.

Marcus held her, pressing soft kisses against her cheeks, her lips, watching how the aftershocks wracked through her body. He had never seen a more beautiful vision than the woman in his arms coming undone.

Abby didn’t know how long they’d been standing, but after a while she became aware of his heaving chest pressed against hers, of the feeling of his still hard erection nestled in the space between her thighs. As she opened her eyes she felt a thrill go through her at the sight of his bruised lips and mussed hair from where her hands had been tangled in it.

Feeling daring she let one hand trail across his chest before rubbing against his erection and his hips bucked into the caress, a groan escaping his lips. After taking a deep breath - trying to settle his racing heart - Marcus leaned his forehead against hers, his hot breath puffed across her cheeks.

“I wish we could be alone,” he said, his voice coming out ragged and frustrated, “I want you all for myself and in a place where we don’t need to be quiet. I want to make you scream my name.”

The thought of them spending hours in a bed, not having to care about the kids and having time to explore every inch of each other’s bodies made her breath hitch and she simply had to kiss him.

Suddenly Marcus broke away, ‘Iowa,” he exclaimed.

Since her brain was still a bit hazy, it took a second for her to reply, “What?”

“Iowa,” he repeated, “After we dropped off the kids at their grandmother we can be alone. We can book a room and then we can - he rubbed his erection against her - finish this properly.”

“Iowa,” she replied with a smile.

“Hmm,” he hummed before brushing her lips with his in a featherlight kiss. “Now let’s go back to Mabel. It’s getting too cold.”

“What about-” she started to say while gesturing towards his pocket where he still had her panties.

“Oh no, I’m keeping these. I gotta have something to get me through those long miles until we reach Iowa,” he grinned before intertwining their fingers and pressing a kiss against her hand.

Abby smiled as they started to walk back to Mabel. Just like that, the Hawkeye State had become their own little Eden.

* * *

Marcus spent the entire night alternating between dreaming about the kiss he had shared with Gail, the look on her face when he made her come using his fingers and tossing in his makeshift bed. Around 6 am he decided to get up since sleep wasn’t going to happen anyway. Unfortunately, his body was still reminiscing about how Gail had felt against him so he needed a _very_ cold shower and lots of coffee afterward. An hour later everyone was up and as Gail and the kids left to say goodbye to the Thompsons Marcus fixed himself his third cup of coffee. He was slouched down in his seat as he berated himself. Apparently he - or at least his body - needed a reminder that he was an _adult_ and not some randy teenager who was unable to control both himself and his hormones. Waiting for the others return he turned the radio on, hoping that it would distract him.

_The disappearance of Abigail Walters Griffin continues to baffle the American public. It has been five days since anyone last saw the First Lady. There is a lot of speculation as to why and how the First Lady left White House without telling anyone where she was going. Some believe she left on her own accord while others are adamant that she was forced to leave. The Jaha administration is still refusing to comment and even the First Lady’s chief of staff hasn’t offered any information._

Goddamn. He was slipping. He was so caught up in this thing with Gail that he was forgetting the biggest story since President Griffin’s assassination. It struck him as odd that the First Lady hadn’t turned up yet. Especially if you took into consideration that she was on her own. No bodyguards, no assistants, nothing. Was she even able to do the most basic things? All of her life she’d have a staff, driver and what not.

Also, where could she possibly be hiding?

It’s not like she’s a person who could easily blend in with a crowd. Someone who looked like Abigail Walters Griffin most definitely stood out. Or perhaps she had changed her appearance?

 _Like cutting and dying her hair, wearing no make-up and wearing baggy clothes -_ his subconscious whispered and his neck started to tingle again just as the door flew open and Bellamy barged in, Gail and Octavia closely following.

“Why do we have to leave? Why can’t we stay another day like the Thompsons are doing? Do you always have to have things your way?” Bellamy whined as he let himself fall onto the couch.

“Because I said so and yes I do need to have things going my way,” Marcus stated, “We still have a long drive ahead and we’ve already lost enough time as it is.”

The teenager muttered something under his breath but Marcus paid it no attention. Instead, he turned the engine on and started to drive Mabel off the camping ground. As he started to drive, Gail stayed with the kids instead of sitting next to him. Which was odd but perhaps she was feeling a bit self-conscious about what had happened between them last night.

So with no Gail sitting next to him and talking to him, Marcus continued to listen to the radio where every hour there was an update - or rather a retelling of the same old information - on the disappearance of the First Lady.

_It’s not impossible to think that our beloved First Lady has fallen in unfriendly hands._

_There still hasn’t been a demand for ransom, which begs the question, is she even being held against her will?_

_The White House still refuses to comment on the story. Is President Jaha even interested in getting the First Lady back?_

_Could the threat be domestic or foreign?_

When one reporter suggested that either the First Lady either had a nervous breakdown or had run off with her boyfriend Marcus got annoyed and turned the radio off.

_Idiots_

They were all too lazy to do _actual_ research so instead, they only speculated about what could have happened.

But - his mind whispered - wasn’t that exactly what he’d been doing during his time as a reporter at _Blitz?_ For fuck's sake, he didn’t even talk to sources, he simply took pictures and wrote articles based on that alone. He’d written articles on people’s drinking habit for crying out loud. So honestly who was he to criticize those people for sensationalizing the news? He was just as guilty. Nevermind the fact that he once had been a successful and well-respected journalist. He had sold out and sunk as low as working for a tabloid.

Still, there was something about the way they talked about the First Lady that rubbed him the wrong way.

When morning turned into midday and the passenger’s seat remained empty Marcus started to actually miss Gail’s presence next to him. He missed the way she’d mutter facts about the places they drove past, the remarks she’d make about the people in the cars next to them. Hell, he even missed just _looking_ at her from the corner of his eye.

God, he was really pathetic, wasn’t he? Mooning over a woman he barely knew. Somehow she had gotten under his skin.

“Anyone interested in a picnic?”

Everybody in the motor home was surprised by the question, even Marcus and the words had slipped from between _his_ lips.

After a short silence, Gail replied with an excited _yes_ , throwing him a smile and he could feel his heart doing a little jump in his chest at the sight.

Bellamy muttered a soft _whatever_ with his eyes still focused on his book but even though he tried to hide it, Marcus could tell that he wasn’t opposed to the prospect of having a picnic.

About an hour later he parked in front of a grocery store in Vincennes, Indiana.

“Did you guys know that the 9th President of the United States William Henry Harrison was from around here? He only was the President for a month when he died of pneumonia,” Gail casually remarked while walking into the store and Marcus told himself that was information which anyone could look up.  And there had been a sign announcing that Vincennes was Harrison’s hometown just a couple of miles ago.

But there that was a tingling sensation in his neck again.

“Alright, what do you we need to buy?” He asked while rubbing his neck, trying to shake off this feeling of apprehension.

With a smile, Gail started to list things while getting a cart. Bellamy had Octavia in his arms, staying close to Gail and Marcus shuffled after them.

After they bought everything they needed for the picnic they were back in Mabel and on the road. Soon they crossed the border into Illinois and from the rearview mirror Marcus could see Gail slightly swaying and humming under her breath to one of Bellamy’s song as she prepared the sandwiches. She looked so happy that he was glad he’d come up with the idea of having a picnic.

His hand crept back to the radio when he heard one of Mrs. Griffin’s old university friends being interviewed.

_Abby was always there for you if you needed anything. I can’t remember the number of times she’d help me studying or we simply hung out at our dorm._

_Abby_? Marcus had forgotten about that old nickname, especially since nobody really used it anymore to address the First Lady. But the name did make sense.  Abigail - Abby

_...Gail_

He shook his head. He really needed to stop with these fantasies, he was a journalist. All throughout his career, or at least until that fateful story, he had trusted facts not idiotic assumptions or _could-bes._ Only a person with a rather vivid imagination could believe that the First Lady somehow managed to escape the White House without being spotted, drive a brown Chevrolet until it got stolen, leaving her behind with a twenty dollar so she had no other choice than basically hitchhiking with a guy and two children. The First Lady would _never_  take care of kids she never met while being responsible for changing diapers and getting puked on. That idea was simply preposterous.

And yet.

His neck was still tingling.

* * *

Byrne stared at the photo’s lying on the table in front of her. Her and Sinclair had been on the road since 6 am. They had managed to track down not only the man in charge of the radio station which had organised the contest but also the people presenting the contest and the camera crew and photographers. The people had happily provided them with footage from the contest and numerous pictures but so far none of them had a clear shot of the woman claiming to be Stacy O’Neil.

Either her face was partially covered by her hair or she was looking at the floor or carrying the little girl. Sometimes all they got was a blurry back or shoulder. Never a shot of her entire body was extremely frustrating.

Leaning back into her chair, she sighed before taking another sip of her coffee. Just as she was about to stretch her legs,  Sinclair entered their room again, a vexed look on his face.

“So what did have the President to say?” She asked a tiny smirk curling around her lips at the way his eyes narrowed in annoyance.

“Well, he didn’t explicitly say so but let’s just say that if we’re unable to find the First Lady and bring her back to the White House by Friday we’re going to be without a job and we will never work for the government ever again. Or perhaps work at all for that matter.”

“Well fuck,” she replied while rubbing her eyes.

“Indeed,” Sinclair agreed, “Did you manage to find something new?”

Byrne shook her head, “Not really. But take a look at the pictures again. What do all of them have in common?”

“You mean the fact that we never have a clear shot of her and it looks like she’s deliberately dodging the cameras? That had caught my attention yes,” Sinclair said as he sat down next to her.

“Mine as well. But I just can’t figure out why should try to stay clear of them? If she’s simply a civilian, why go through that trouble?” Byrne asked as she poured him another cup of coffee, for which he thanked her with a small smile.

“Perhaps she really doesn’t like her pictures being taken? The presenter of the contest did mention that the teenage boy had to practically push her onto the stage. She could be shy.”

“Maybe.”

“But still, my gut feeling is telling me that there’s more to Stacy O’Neil than that we know so far,” Sinclair continued to say. “Something’s not adding up. The kid gave a fake address when he picked the prize up. Why would he do that if they were who he said they were?”

Byrne nodded, “I do agree that there’s something going on and but does that automatically mean that this woman is Mrs. Griffin?”

“Perhaps not but I’m not comfortable with not exploring this lead just a little further,”

“So what are you suggesting we do exactly?”

“We call our agencies and see if we can find any information on her. And we’ll see if we can track this Stacy and her family down. I want to have a conversation with her, only then I’ll be satisfied that she _isn’t_ Mrs. Griffin.”

* * *

“Where do you want me to put all of this food?”

Abby turned around and she watched Marcus walking out of Mabel with two big bags of containing the food and drinks.

“Uhm how about over there?” she mentioned as she pointed at a picnic table which was sitting a bit further from others, creating a bit of privacy from the other people.

“Sure,” he replied while moving towards the table and helping her unpack the pasta salad she’d made, the cheese and ham sandwiches, some carrots, cupcakes, soda and the plastic cups and plates.

It didn’t take long before Bellamy wandered out of the motor home while carrying his sister.

“I’m gonna go for a walk. I’ll just drop Octavia off in the sandbox over there,” the boy announced.

“Make sure she doesn’t eat any of the sand,” Abby called out as images of Octavia getting sick - because of all of the possible bacteria - flashed through her mind.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she can still eat a cupcake,” Bellamy threw back over his shoulder causing Marcus to chuckle before opening a beer.

Abby was absolutely _not_ okay with the fact that Octavia was in the sandbox on her own - well there was another small boy but he didn’t count.

“Can you go and watch her?” She asked while turning toward Marcus.

“Gail - “

“Please,” she interrupted him, “You don’t know what has happened to that sand. I just don’t want her to get sick.”

Marcus opened his mouth - already ready to object - but after one glance at her, he knew he couldn’t say no.

“Alright then.”

“Thank you,” she replied.

“Hmm.”

Minutes after Marcus had left, Bellamy took a seat next to her while his gaze was locked onto the sandbox where Octavia was basically throwing sand at the other kid and Marcus was laughing at the whole thing.

“So Kane isn’t as bad as I’d initially thought he’d be,” Bellamy said, “I mean he’s still an ass sometimes but he could be worse.”

Abby smiled at that, “He can be a handful that’s for sure.”

“But you still find him attractive,” the teenager casually sated and Abby nearly dropped the bottle of soda.

“I - I don’t - I mean,” she stuttered while blushing. “We’re just friends,” she ended up telling him.

She was not about to confess to a _teenager_ what had happened between her and Marcus. Or what was still going to happen. Well, if the Secret Service didn’t find her before they reached Iowa. And Abby truly hoped they wouldn’t.

Bellamy rolled his eyes before giving her his _do you really think I’m stupid_ look.

“Oh? I didn’t know that friends usually kissed each other?”

1-0 Bellamy.

“Still I -”

“You could do a lot worse you know. I’m sure that all you have to do is ask,” Bellamy interrupted her.

“Ask what?”

The boy shrugged, “Ask him to go out. Or get married or something.”

Abby stared at him, _marriage?!_

“He’d treat you much better than that jerk you’re on the run for. I wouldn’t suggest you two getting married if I thought he could ever hurt you,” the teenager muttered, with his eyes cast downwards as if he was embarrassed for letting her know that he cared about her and her feelings.

Abby could feel her heart melt at the look of honesty in the boy’s eyes.

“Oh Bellamy,” she said and even though she knew that he wasn’t really comfortable with hugs - she couldn’t  _not_ hug him so she wrapped her left arm around his shoulders. The boy tensed for a second before leaning into her embrace.

“Perhaps you two could even - you know adopt O. She likes you and Kane. And sure I know that she’s loud and stuff but she’s still young,” he said and Abby finally realised what this conversation was about and she absolutely hated the fact that she had to shatter that dream.

“Listen Bellamy, I know that we’ve only known each other for a short period of time and even though I do care about you and your sister - Marcus and I, we’re not going to get married. And we can’t adopt you or Octavia. I’m so sorry,” she said, trying to break the news gently but the boy shrugged her arm off before jumping up and moving away. His face was red and there were tears in his eyes.

“Why the hell would I want to live with you? Or Kane. I didn’t say anything about me. I’m only concerned about Octavia. I would _never_ want to live with someone like you. Are you fucking stupid?” he cried out, catching Abby by surprise. She hadn’t expected him to have such a strong reaction to what she had said.

“Bellamy,” Marcus yelled from his position at the sandbox, “How dare you talk to Gail like that?”

He picked Octavia up and started to walk towards the picnic table, the expression on his face absolutely fuming.

“You better apologise to Gail.”

Abby rose from her position at the picnic table, “Marcus it’s -”, she started to say but he was quick to cut her off.

“No, don’t tell me that it’s okay because it’s not. He has absolutely no right to say that to you,” he countered as he settled Octavia down on the grass before turning his gaze towards the boy, who was still standing nearby.

The expression on Kane’s face made Bellamy’s stomach hurt.

Kane wasn’t simply angry, he looked disappointed - he looked exactly like a dad would look and that made Bellamy feel even worse.

He hadn’t meant to lash out at Gail like that. He truly hadn’t. He knew that she was simply trying to be nice but he was running out of time and the fact that Gail had said that she couldn’t adopt Octavia and him made all sorts of emotions to course through his body. He never would have thought that she would include him, that she would want to adopt him as well.

“Gail didn’t deserve that. I don’t know what you two were talking about but nothing she could have said would have made your reply okay,” Marcus stated with his arms crossed.

Bellamy was trying his utmost best not to burst into tears. He was feeling so bad he could only stare at his feet.

“She has been working so hard on making this the best picnic possible. She worked for over an hour on the sandwiches and the pasta. She even bought chocolate cupcakes with frosting on it. This means a lot for her so don’t you dare ruin this for her by being a jerk. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes,”

“I’m sorry?”

Bellamy looked up, “Yes, you’ve made yourself clear.”

“Alright then. Now I want you to look Gail in the eyes and apologise,” Marcus firmly stated.

“I’m sorry Gail, I didn’t mean all those things I said. You’re not stupid at all. You’ve been taking good care of me and Octavia. I was simply being a brat and I am sorry,” Bellamy muttered softly, but he did mean everything he said. He was being a brat and Gail didn’t deserve that.

“Apology accepted,” Gail replied with a smile.

“Alright, let’s have some sandwiches and cupcakes shall we? That red frosting is already looking slightly melted,” she continued and just like that the tension was broken and they all settled down at the table.

An hour later all the sandwiches were gone and they had all eaten at least two cupcakes. Since the weather was still rather mild, they decided to go for a walk.

Marcus plucked one of the dahlias which were still growing in a nearby container before handing it to her with a smile.

“A beautiful flower for a beautiful lady,” he announced, meaning for it to come out teasingly, but instead it sounded more sincere that he had wanted or was comfortable with. But when Gail accepted it with a warm smile and looked at him like he had given her the most precious diamond, he didn’t mind it so much. Especially when she grabbed his hand and intertwined their fingers.

They continued to walk in a comfortable silence until it became too chilly for Octavia so when Bellamy turned around to announce that he and Octavia were going to go back to Mabel, he had difficulty suppressing the smirk at the sight of their entangled hands.

“I’m gonna go back inside with Octavia. It’s getting late and she still needs a bath,” the teenager stated before starting to move back to Mabel. Unfortunately, Octavia didn’t like being too far from Marcus so somehow he ended up with bath duty instead of Bellamy.

Afterward, her brother put her to bed and practically ordered him to go back outside as he collapsed on the couch with his copy of the _Iliad_ and his music.

Not even bothering with giving a snappy reply back, Marcus stepped back outside and immediately noticed Gail standing close to Mabel with her head tilted back as she gazed at the sky.

He moved very quietly as not to disturb her. The light of the warm light of the sunset cast a red-golden hue to her hair and skin. She looked absolutely beautiful and almost ethereal.

Once again as he continued to gaze at her, he felt that uncomfortable tingling at the back of his neck. Only this time it was accompanied with an odd pinching feeling in his stomach. She was _just_ Gail. Gail Turner, a woman on the run from her ex. A woman she wore clothes from the dollar store, who left her her keys in the ignition and was kind of clueless about everyday things.

The night was too peaceful to spoil by talking, especially by voicing something that would change _everything._ And he didn’t want that, he wanted for her to be Gail Turner so he could wrap her into his arms and kiss her until they were both breathless.

So when words tumbled out of his mouth, Marcus surprised himself. Even more so by the words he had chosen to say.

“Mrs. Griffin?”

Gail turned around automatically, a soft smile on her face. “Yes?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and/or kudos are much appreciated


	9. Gail Turner isn't going to say goodbye just yet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised earlier this week on Twitter, here's the new chapter!! ^^ 
> 
> This chapter contains a lot of things: revelations, kisses, confused emotions, Marcus realising that he doesn't mind taking care of Bellamy and Octavia, you'll find out what secret Bellamy has been keeping, the FBI and CIA are coming closer to where the First Lady has been hiding and much more. 
> 
> ENJOY! ;)
> 
> (also don't hate me for ending this chapter on yet another cliffhanger)

For one peaceful second Abby gazed at Marcus with her smile still firmly in place, wondering why he had called out. But as she waited, the name he had used, trickled through.

_Mrs. Griffin_

Her blood ran cold and her smile faltered.

_No no. Please no._

How stupid of her.

Several thoughts were racing through her mind. _What happened now? Would he call the police? Or a newspaper, a television station? Would he refuse to let her continue to travel with them? Would he demand she contacted the White House so she could get picked up? Would this be the end?_

Abby could feel everything she had so carefully constructed since her escape from the White House fall apart. Her time as Gail Turner was coming to an end. But she refused to give up so easily. She wanted to pretend for a little while longer, she didn’t want to say goodbye to Gail Turner just yet.

So she plastered another smile on her face while shaking her head. Hoping that she might convince Marcus that she was simply Gail.

“You surely do have a thing for our First Lady don’t you?” She chuckled, trying to sound cheerful, but her voice sounded strained even to her own ears.

Marcus continued to stare at her, his expression closed-off.  

“That’s not the reason why you like me right? Because I look like her?” she continued to babble nervously, “But enough about her. Is everything okay with the kids? Is Octavia already asleep? Did Bellamy give you any trouble? Or did he -”

“Stop talking,” Marcus growled, his entire posture tense and Abby closed her mouth.

She wished there was something she could say which would make everything better, but unfortunately she came up empty.

“It’s true, isn’t it?” He asked after a second.

“What is? I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she continued to deny.

Marcus scoffed, “Stop pretending that you don’t know what this is about. Didn’t you hear the news earlier? At the Thompsons’ motor home? Your disappearance is now international news.”

_Your disappearance_

There’s no way she could continue to lie to Marcus, not when he was convinced - rightfully so - that she was Mrs. Griffin. But she still absolutely hated the look in Marcus’ eyes.

Just minutes ago those eyes had gazed at her with a certain softness, but now they were ice cold. Looking at him made her feel sick to the stomach so she turned around while wrapping her arms around her waist.

“Everybody in the entire country now knows that you’re missing. And I’m betting that every single member of the Secret Service, the CIA, the FBI and who knows what other agencies are currently looking for you,” Marcus stated and he sounded too polite, too reserved. Throughout their short time together he had yelled at her, had gotten annoyed with her, teased her and even flirted with her but he had never sounded _formal._ But then again, she should have expected that. Everyone spoke to the First Lady in that tone. Abby also knew the second that Marcus had used that tone of voice that she had truly lost him. She could feel his promise of making love to her in Iowa crumble to dust. Because let’s face it, even a confident man like Marcus Kane would think twice about touching The First Lady, let alone  in an intimate fashion

But here was the thing. She didn’t want to give him up, nor what they had. She didn’t want to walk away like nothing had happened between them and simply return to her life as Abigail Walters Griffin.

She wouldn’t. For once she was going to take what she _wanted._

“This changes nothing,” she firmly stated while turning around and starting to walk towards Marcus, who simply let out a hollow laugh.

“With all due respect Mrs. Griffin but this changes _everything._ ”

“It doesn’t have to. We could still pretend that -”

“That what? That you’re a civilian and not the most famous woman in the United States?”

“I think that position is reserved for Beyoncé,” she replied, hoping to earn a smile, but Marcus continued to stare at her, clearly unamused at her attempt to lighten the mood.

Alright then. No more jokes. Let’s try something different then.

“What about Iowa?” She asked and he looked taken aback by the sudden change of subject.

“I don’t -” Marcus started to say, but Abby swiftly cut him off.

“Have you forgotten the promise you made to me? Of making love to me in Iowa?” She asked while taking another step into his direction.

“Of course I haven’t forgotten my promise,” he huffed, “But I made that promise before I knew who you truly were. Now that can never happen, you must realise that.”

“Why not? I’m still the same woman I was 15 minutes ago. The same woman you kissed tonight and last night,” Abby replied, but Marcus shook his head.

“No you’re not. You’re _The First Lady_ ,” he almost yelled, only barely managing the lower his voice at the very last second.

“So? That’s merely a title. It’s not who I am as a person,” she softly explained. She had come to a halt and they were currently so close that she could reach out to him, which she did. Gingerly Abby placed a hand on his chest and she could feel the pounding of his heart beneath the palm of her hand.

“Please Marcus, don’t walk away from this,” she whispered.

Marcus was gazing down at her and the look in her eyes tugged at his heart. Oh, how he wanted to pull her close. To whisper that everything was going to be alright. That they would figure a way out. That he could still keep his promise of them making love.

But his mind - his mind was screaming at him to go away. To take a step backward. To create more distance between them. He couldn’t do this. He - a mere civilian - couldn’t possibly kiss The First Lady. Or even think about kissing The First Lady.

Yet here he was. And he was most definitely thinking about how desperately he wanted to wrap her into his arms and kiss her.

But he couldn’t. It wouldn’t be proper. Or even -

His inner monologue came to an abrupt halt the second he felt Mrs. Griffin tangling her fingers into his hair before tugging his head down and pressing her lips to his in a somewhat frantic kiss. For a single heartbeat, he remained frozen, the knowledge that America’s First Lady was kissing _him_ rendered him momentarily immobile, but then he cradled her head and eagerly returned the kiss.

Abby poured everything she had into the kiss and when she felt Marcus press his body against her before returning the kiss a shiver of excitement went through her.

“Mrs. Griffin,” he whispered as he started to pepper her jaw, her throat with small kisses, the disbelief clear in his voice.

“Call me Abby,” she replied while dragging his mouth back against hers.

Marcus hummed against her lips and she hoped that this meant that he wouldn’t walk away from her and that everything would work out in the end.

Unfortunately, that sprinkle of hope was quickly shattered when Marcus tensed up before breaking the kiss and gently pushing her away.

“No,” he gasped, “We can’t do this. I _can’t_ do this,” he uttered in a rough voice.

He looked so determined and Abby could - even though she hated herself for it - feel tears of anger and frustration well up.

“You had no problem whatsoever with kissing me when I was Gail Turner but now simply because you know that I have another name, you can’t? You don’t feel the same way anymore? What utter bullshit,” she exclaimed while shaking her head.

“Another name?” He scoffed with an incredulous look on his face as if he couldn’t believe that she was handling the situation so casually. “It’s not simply another name Ab- _Mrs. Griffin._ You are The First Lady of the United States.”

Abby rolled her eyes and waved his explanation away. “Yes yes, thank you. I’m well aware of who I am.”

“Are you? Is that why you’re pretending to be Gail Turner? Because you’re so in sync and happy with who you are?” Marcus sneered and when she didn’t have an immediate reply he couldn’t help but feel a tad smug about rendering the First Lady of the United States speechless.

However…

His smugness lasted until Abby pressed forward and poked his chest.

“Do not presume to know or understand me. All the information you _do_ know about me has been handled by sources which have been thoroughly vetted by either my father’s political team or the White House. You don’t know _me_ ;” she snapped back.

And she truly had a point there. But he wasn’t going to admit that, no matter who she was.  So he decided to take another approach to the conversation.

“Does anyone even know where you are?” He asked and she shook her head.

“Not exactly. I haven’t been giving out my location, but I have left behind a message to my Chief of Staff and others so they know that I’m alive and okay,” Abby explained, which did make him feel a little bit better but it still felt surreal to him. He still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that he was talking to The First Lady.

“I think it would be best if you called one of them again and let them know your exact location.”

“Do you now?”

“Yes. That way transport can be arranged and you can be safely escorted back to the White House.”

“Who said anything about me wanting to return to the White House?” She countered, which took him by surprise.

 _Just why did she want to escape?_ \- his mind whispered, but before he could utter a single word she was already talking again.

“But no matter what your opinion on my situation is, since I’m - as you have stated numerously by now - the First Lady I don’t have to listen to you or your recommendations on how I should handle this. Over these couple of days, I’ve grown attached to those kids in the motor home and if you think for even a second that I won’t be there when you put them off at their grandmother’s house than you truly don’t know me.”

“I -”

Abby was quick to cut him off by raising a hand, which was such a Mrs. Griffin thing to do that his head hurt.

“Now if you don’t have anything sensible to say I’m going back to go inside and check on the kids. I don’t care,” she stated before slipping past him.

He let her.

Because honestly what was he supposed to do?

Stop the First Lady of the United States? He didn’t think so.

As Marcus watched her open the door and entering Mabel he still couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe that the woman he had been traveling with was none other than the widow of President Griffin.

And then it hit him.

She had lied to him. Even _played_ him. She had pretended to be a normal and innocent person. And if there was something Marcus absolutely couldn’t stand it was being fooled.

Suddenly he was absolutely furious with her. Furious that she had lied to him. Had made a fool out of him. She must have gotten a kick out of messing with him, of realising that he believed her story to a certain degree. He hadn’t thought too much about it really. Of course, he knew that she lied about her name but he never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined this.

Which made the blow even worse. Especially since he was a journalist who had relied on his people skills and his ability to read people his entire professional life.

Marcus drew in a ragged breath.

He just got handed the story of a lifetime. This was exactly the kind of story journalists dreamed of. As far as he knew, he was the only one in the United States who knew the exact whereabouts of the First Lady. This was his ticket in regaining his position as a respected journalist.

He was already imagining getting his old job back, but he got an uneasy feeling in his stomach at the thought of writing about Abby, about using her for information.

Was he really going to betray her just so he could get his job back?

But then again, hadn’t she done the exact same thing? Broken his trust? Lied about who she was and used him to get away from that diner?

 _Yeah, but you haven’t been exactly very forthcoming with your job as a journalist either have you?_  His subconscious whispered, but he was quick to squash that notion.

What she had done was worse.

At the core of his being, he was a journalist and he couldn’t walk away from a story like this. He just couldn’t.

Somehow he had to find out how she could have possibly escaped the White House. And why she had wanted to leave in the first place. Perhaps he could persuade her to tell him. They were after all, going to be stuck together for a little while longer. Sooner or later she was going to slip and tell him the truth or even just a snippet of it.

All he knew was that everything about this story had to be absolutely accurate. There would be no room for exaggeration or small little lies. This story was going to be 100% based on facts and at the bottom of the story, there would be his name in print.

Satisfied with this new plan Marcus softly entered Mabel, mindful of the children. Gail - no _Abby_ \- was nowhere in sight, but the door to the bedroom was closed so he had a pretty good hunch as to where she was. He also knew that it was still too early for her to have gone to bed, but it was a clear message that she didn’t feel like talking to him. And he was fine with that because had no idea what to say to her.

* * *

Abby woke up sometime around dawn, her cheeks were still slightly wet from silently crying herself to sleep mere hours ago. Blinking, she gazed down at Octavia and Bellamy, who were still soundly asleep.

Carefully she reached out and let a finger trail across the little girl’s cheek. Her skin was so soft. Even though she hadn’t been taking care of the girl for a very long and she was still to a certain degree scared she’d somehow hurt or bring bad luck to the girl, Abby was grateful to have had this opportunity. She had come to terms with the knowledge that she was infertile and that she would never be a mother, but during this past couple of days she had been able to pretend, even for a little while, that she was a mother and every gurgle, giggle, smile, smell had been cherished by her and commit to memory. She would never forget even the smallest detail about taking care of Bellamy and Octavia.

Marcus on the other hand…

That was much more complex. Stating that she wasn’t dreading seeing him again would be a lie. But Abby knew that so far Marcus had kept the knowledge of who she truly was to himself. If he hadn’t she wouldn’t still be at the motor home, but back at the White House, where she would probably be giving a press conference while uttering some false statement on to where she had been this past couple of days.

With the knowledge that her time of being Gail Turner was coming to an end, she sighed before getting up and gathering some clothes. She took a quick shower and got dressed. When she got back into the room Bellamy was still asleep, but Octavia was awake - the girl had managed to roll onto her stomach - and was making gurgling noises.

“Hello darling,” Abby softly said and she got a toothy grin in response.

Her heart ached at the sight because soon she’d have to say goodbye to both her and her brother.

And Marcus.

She honestly didn’t know how she felt about that.

With a soft smile Abby leaned over the bed and gathered Octavia in her arms and the girl instinctively wrapped her small arms around her neck, making tears well up in Abby’s eyes. Leaving those children behind was going to break her heart.

As she walked out of the bedroom and after gently closing the door behind her, she noticed that Marcus was already awake.

 _Great_.

“I have made some coffee if you want,” he announced and Abby couldn’t help but wince at the formality which was still present in his voice.

“Thank you.”

“We don’t really have a lot to eat except some cereal.”

“Yes, I know, I was there when we bought it remember.”

“Right,” he said while rubbing his neck and he looked extremely uncomfortable, “Why don’t you hand me Octavia? I’ll change her diaper and give her some formula. That way you can get something to eat.”

Abby frowned before turning her body slightly so that Octavia was further away from him. “Why? I’m perfectly able to do that. If you can recall that’s what I’ve basically been doing these last three days."

“Yes well, that was before I knew -” Marcus started to say but he faltered.

“Knew what?”

“Who you were.”

“And just because you know who I am, I’m suddenly unable to feed a child?” Abby snapped, her annoyance very clear in her voice, causing his expression to tense up.

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” he uttered, his face completely stoic.

The way he was talking to her and treating her irked her. If she had been still Gail, he would have growled something back. Or even yet, if she had still been Gail this conversation wouldn’t have even taken place.

“Well, you did _offend_ me so why don’t you move so I can change her diaper,” she snarled back, already annoyed.

“Fine,” Marcus grumbled before moving aside with a cup of coffee and practically storming out of Mabel.

But the second he was outside Marcus cursed himself for losing his temper. No matter how upset he still was for being lied to, he couldn’t let his emotions control him, not when getting Abby’s story was now the most important thing. That and dropping off Bellamy and Octavia at their grandmother’s. He just needed to put all of his personal feelings aside and focus on the scoop of the century.

He was still sipping his coffee when Bellamy stumbled out of Mabel.

“Care to explain to me why Gail ordered me to tell you that we’ll need to pick up some more formula and diapers?” The boy asked, his voice still rough with sleep.

Marcus didn’t even dignify that with an answer.

“Well?”

“That’s none of your business,” he snapped, way too harsh because the boy actually flinched at his tone, causing Marcus to sigh as he ran a hand through his messy hair.

“I’m sorry Bellamy, I didn’t mean to snap at you like that. I didn’t sleep very well,”

Bellamy shrugged, “It’s fine. You don’t owe me anything. Besides, it’s not the first time I got yelled at.”

The boy’s past with Aurora and her numerous boyfriends flashed through his mind. That boy really had been through too much. “Even so, I still shouldn’t have yelled at you. None of this is your fault.”

“Are you and Gail fighting?” Bellamy asked, his eyes downcast and his voice sounded small.

“No, not exactly -,” Marcus sighed, ”It’s just a little bit of a misunderstanding.”

“Okay,” the boy said, but he didn’t look like he entirely believed him, “Are you coming in?”

Marcus nods, “I will in a second. And you can tell Gail that we’ll stop by the first shop we will encounter.”

“I will,” Bellamy replied before getting up and walking back into Mabel.

Marcus drained the last of his coffee and with a deep sigh, he got up, but not before asking himself when his life had gotten so complicated.

 _The day you decided to listen to your voicemail -_ his mind whispered.

Back into the motor home. Abby was busy playing with Octavia and without giving her a single glance he took place behind the wheel and started the engine.  

A couple of miles later, Marcus drove onto the parking lot of a small supermarket. Abby wanted to go by herself since they only needed some minor things but Marcus absolutely refused. He did not want her to go anywhere on her own. Not now he knew about her real identity. Which was something Abby didn’t care for at all if the look on her face was anything to go by, not that Marcus cared about any of that.

He, in fact, got annoyed by her. How dare she act like she was the one being wronged?! As if she was the one who had been lied to for the first second they had met.

In the end, they had decided that they would buy the groceries together while the kids stayed inside of Mabel.

In complete silence.

As they started to wait in line in order to pay Abby announced that she was going to make her daily phone call to ensure people that she was okay. Marcus only agreed because he was able to see the phone booth through the supermarket’s window.

“Fine, you need some money?”

Abby shook his head, “No thanks, I still have some left,” she said before leaving him.

Marcus slowly moved along the line, glancing every couple of seconds out of the window just to make sure Abby was still at the phone booth - and she was.

When it was his turn to pay he couldn’t help but overhear a conversation between other customers. They were discussing The First Lady’s disappearance and one woman commented on the fact that she had left without taking even a single bodyguard with her. And it was only after hearing that remark that he realised that the woman who had been surrounded by bodyguards and members of the Secret Service her entire life was currently _without_ any protection. He was the only one who could keep her safe. Panic started to settle in. What if something happened to her? Even though he was still angry at her for lying to him, he didn’t want her to get harmed.

Needing the reassurance he stole another look at the window, but to his horror, she wasn’t in the phone booth anymore.

Fuck where did she go?

Not even bothering with glancing at the exact amount of money he needed to pay, he threw a couple of bills on the register before rushing outside with his bag of groceries.

A quick sweep of the area confirmed his earlier assessment.

Abby wasn’t outside.

He practically ran back towards Mabel but she wasn’t there either. Dropping the bag on the table, he turned towards Bellamy, who was sitting on the couch, reading a book.

“Have you seen A - Gail?” He asked and he was unable to suppress a hint of panic to his voice.

“No, wasn’t she supposed to be with you?” Bellamy threw back at him, looking confused as to why Kane was acting so agitated.

Marcus swore under his breath and stepping back outside. Not wanting to alert other people, he simply started to walk around the parking lot, hoping to find her.

Then all of a sudden the supermarket’s sliding doors opened and there she was, casually walking out of it with a small bag. But instead of feeling relieved he felt _angry._ Was she unable to follow even the simplest of orders? Why couldn’t she simply _listen_ and do as she was told? You’d think after being in the public eye for pretty much her entire life she’d know how to follow an order.

“Don’t you ever do that to me ever again,” he shouted as she strode towards her and he didn’t even pay any attention to the other people leaving the store at the same time.

“Excuse me?” Abby hissed back as she grabbed his arm before leading him away so they could have some more privacy.

“Disappear like that,” he muttered between clenched teeth, ”You were supposed to make a phone call and then wait for me. _Outside._ Where I could see you.”

“Yes, well after I finished the phone call I remembered that we were also out of shampoo and when I saw that you were still in the line, I decided to get some.” she explained, “And you don’t get to talk to me like that.”

“Oh, I don’t? Well, guess what? I don’t care that you don’t appreciate my tone,” Marcus stated, “Since you insist on continuing with this charade I’m all the security you have, so let me make this very clear to you, whenever we leave the motor home you are either staying where I can see you or you stay by my side. Got it?”

Abby’s eyes flashed with outrage, but Marcus didn’t care. First Lady or not, they would need some ground rules.

“Listen, you might think that playing a civilian is all in good fun but this isn’t a game. Do you have any idea what could happen to you if someone had recognized you or god forbid, had managed to overpower you and taken you somewhere else without me knowing?” He uttered, his annoyance clear in his voice.

“I never said that I thought this was a game, I’m well aware that it isn’t,” she hissed back, “And I doubt that anybody would recognize me. I lost a look-alike contest remember?“

“This is no joking matter goddammit,” Marcus remarked and to his utter surprise, she actually laughed.

Out loud.

To his face.

Honestly, this woman was utterly aggravating and he really wanted to shake her.

Not that he was going to do that because she was the First Lady after all and he really didn’t want to end up in jail or worse.

“ _Aaaand_ you’re back,” she smirked successfully snapping him out of his reverie.

“What the hell do you mean by that?”

He was beyond confused. How did he lose control over this conversation so quickly?

“This is the first time since last night that you acted normal. And treated me like a normal human being. You stopped being so damned polite,” she explained before continuing, “And before you berate me even more, I am not simply amusing myself with _common_ people.”

She gave his arm a soft squeeze before taking a small step backward. And like that, all of the fight left him. Arguing wasn’t going to get them anywhere.

“Fine,” he sighed while rubbing his beard, “So who did you call?”

“Hillary Clinton.”

Marcus laughed, “Yeah sure -,” he said mockingly only to falter when he realised that her calling Hillary Clinton was an actual possibility.

How was this his life?

“Why did you call her?” he ended up saying in the end.

“Well, you might think me irresponsible, but I already told you last night that I’ve been keeping people updated by calling every day since leaving the White House. And since I’m sure that my Chief of Staff’s line is most definitely monitored I’ve been calling former First Ladies. I simply told Hillary that I’m alright and safe. But of course, if you know more about national security, please do inform me,” she mentioned.

Marcus had to bite his tongue since there were numerous questions threatening to slip from between his lips.

_How did you escape the White House? Why did you decide to leave? How did you plan your escape?_

But he kept them all inside. This was neither the time nor the place to ask them.

“I never said you were irresponsible. I just don’t want you to go somewhere where I can’t see you.”

“Relax. Nobody is going to kidnap me. I managed to leave the White House unnoticed remember? I doubt that anyone here is going to recognize me,” she remarked with a small smile but Marcus merely huffed in response.

“Are you sufficiently reassured now? Can we finally go back to Mabel? I’m sure the kids - or rather Bellamy - are wondering where we are.”

“Fine.”

After giving him a small smile Abby started to move towards Mabel. She had barely taken a couple of steps when Marcus heard in succession the squeal of brakes, tires screeching across the pavement and a loud noise which sounded a lot like a gunshot.  Without even giving it a second thought, Marcus ran towards Abby before pulling her to him, dropping onto the ground and covering her with his entire body.

He heard her gasp in his arms, but his sole focus was on protecting her. His heart was hammering in his chest and he could hear his blood roar in his ears.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

There was someone shooting at them. Someone had recognized her. Someone who wasn’t a fan of the First Lady.

He needed to shield her and get her somewhere safe.  He wasn’t _not_ going to let anyone harm her. They would have to get through to him first. And he would put up a fight.

“Marcus?”

His name was softly uttered from where her face was pressed against his chest. He could feel her tremble within his embrace.

“Marcus, it’s okay,” she continued to say as she moved her head until she could look him in the eyes. “We’re safe.”

As he gazed down at her, at the softness in her eyes – he couldn’t find a single flicker of fear in them – an uneasy feeling crept up his spine. Now that heart had slowed down a little bit and after looking around and noticing people stare at them, he realised that the sound he had assumed to be a gunshot, also sounded a lot like a car backfiring.

_Fuck._

* * *

The closer they got to the Iowa border the darker the sky became. It almost seemed like a sign, Abby thought, well if you believed in things like that. After the stunt with the car backfiring Marcus had been unable to look her in the eyes, especially after he realised that he in haste to drop to the floor and cover her with his body she had scraped her knees across the concrete and she was bleeding. But Marcus had practically recoiled from her, before jumping up and muttering how sorry he was and that they should have plenty of bandages in the motor home.  The knowledge that instead of protecting her he had been the one who had hurt her, however small or superficial the wound was, made guilt course through his veins.

The only upside of this whole ordeal? The formality had finally left Marcus’ voice. Now if she could just make him _look_ at her.

“Why don’t you let me drive? It’s been nearly four hours and you haven’t taken a single break,” she suggested, but Marcus shook his head and without turning his gaze from the road he replied with,

“I’m fine, thanks.”

Abby sighed just as Bellamy moved towards them before coming to a halt behind their seats, his hands gripping his back of Abby’s.

“Don’t you guys find it weird that all this time we’ve been making comments on how much Gail looked like the First Lady, I mean we even had her enter a lookalike contest and now the First Lady is actually missing? How strange is that? Like what if someone sees some footage or a picture from the contest and thinks that Gail’s actually her?? Oh my god, what if the Secret Service gets a tip from the contest and they think Gail’s the First Lady as well and they start to come after us? Wouldn’t that be super cool?” The boy rambled.

From the corner of her eye, Abby noticed how tightly Marcus was gripping the wheel – his knuckles had turned white.

 “Yeah, super cool,” she murmured.

Bellamy grinned before bending and picking up Octavia’s toy which she had thrown against the chair in clear annoyance that Marcus had been refusing to give her any kind of attention. Even after she kept calling him _da da_. 

Seconds later the same toy hit Marcus in the back of the head and Abby had to muffle snicker at the look of absolute shock on his face. Shaking her head, she turned her attention towards Octavia who grinned back at her.

“That had to be an accident,” she laughed softly, eliciting a huff from Marcus.

“If that makes you feel better, but we both know that it wasn’t,” he replied while throwing a quick glare back at the girl who simply continued to grin.

Abby bit down on her lip in order not to laugh at the remarkable resemblances between Marcus and Octavia. You could easily mistake her for being his daughter.

“How much longer until we’re in Iowa?” Bellamy asked.

“Well, the Mississippi is right ahead. If everything goes well I guess another hour until we’re in Iowa and perhaps another hour, 45 minutes till we reach your grandmother’s house.”

That reply caused Bellamy to shift on his feet and he looked nervous all of a sudden.

“You okay Bellamy?” Abby asked.

“Of course. Why shouldn’t I be?” The boy threw back at her.

Abby shrugged, “I don’t know, you just seem a bit anxious.”

“Well, I’m not.”

She simply quirked her eyebrows in response and he sighed.

“Fine, perhaps I am. It’ just – this is going to be the first time I’ve seen my grandmother in years, so I’m a bit nervous.”

Abby didn’t know why, but his explanation just didn’t sound true. Which is why she decided to pry a little bit more.

“Understandable. So what’s your grandmother like?”

Bellamy gave her a big smile – a smile which was just a tad too wide to be genuine – “Oh, she’s great. She loves me and Octavia. And she tries to send money whenever she can. She even sends birthday cards or the occasional letter. She’s really cool.”

If that was the case, why hadn’t their grandmother seen Bellamy in years? Or why hadn’t she taken the first flight back to the States? Also, why should she fly back to Iowa instead of going straight to her daughter’s house? Things weren’t adding up and it was giving Abby anxiety. Something wasn’t right because why – if his grandmother was so great – would Bellamy try so hard to push her and Marcus together? And ask if they could adopt Octavia? Why would he prefer his sister living with them instead of him and his grandmother? It just didn’t make any sense.

“She sounds almost too good to be true,” Abby couldn’t help but mutter, causing Bellamy’s eyes to flash with anger.

“What’s that supposed to mean? You think that I’m lying?” he retorted, his voice getting louder.

“Bellamy,” Marcus said, his voice a clear warning and the boy backed off.

“Whatever. I’m going to read some more. Just come and get me when we arrive.”

Abby watched him into the bedroom with an uneasy feeling in her stomach.

“I don’t know about you, but I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something wrong with their grandmother. Bellamy is definitely keeping something from us,” she whispered, causing Marcus to glance at her.

“What makes you think that?”

“Didn’t you hear? Apparently, she loves her grandchildren more than anything else in the world. And yet she hasn’t seen Bellamy in years, I doubt she has even seen Octavia. And if she loved them so damn much then why-“

“Didn’t she take the first plane back to the States?” He finished the sentence for her, taking her by surprise.

“Exactly.”

“The same thought has crossed my mind as well,” Marcus admitted, “But I’ve met Eva once, a long time ago. She’s the complete opposite from Aurora and you can rely on her. Besides, she’s a college professor, Bellamy and Octavia are going to be absolutely fine with her. She’ll be able to give them the kind of life they deserve, the kind they should have had all along. They’ll have a much better future with her,” he stated and Abby couldn’t help but wonder who he was trying to convince; her or himself?

* * *

“You sure you don’t want some lemonade? Or something to eat?” Miss Hudson timidly asked as they were standing in her living room. After leaving behind a valuable tip, Sinclair and Byrne had crossed several states just so they could talk to her.

“No thank you. Do you mind if we sit down and ask you some questions?” Byrne said, getting straight to the point as usual. Not that Sinclair minded, but he could tell that his partner was making Miss Hudson uncomfortable and fidgety.

But then again, Sinclair guesses that coming home from church to a member of the FBI and the actual head of the CIA waiting for you in an unmarked car, would make anyone nervous and on edge.

“Oh yes, why of course. Do sit down,” she muttered with her eyes cast downwards.

He sighed. This wasn’t going to work if the woman stayed this anxious. This was a matter of national security and Sinclair needed her to be calm and at ease.

“You know what Miss Hudson I do think I’d like to take you up on that offer of lemonade after all. We’ve been driving for a quite a while and I could use a glass of something sweet,” Sinclair announced with a small smile and the woman nearly sighed with relief at being able to leave the room for a second.

“Of course, I’ll be right back.”

Miss Hudson had barely left the room when Byrne turned towards him, a frown on her face.

“What the hell Sinclair?” She muttered under her breath.

“Listen, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Miss Hudson is absolutely terrified and your straightforward tactic – which I usually admire – is doing nothing to make her feel more at ease?

Byrne sighed, but she gave him a small nod – acknowledging his point. “I just want to get this over with.”

“So do I,” Sinclair agreed, “But this isn’t a killer, thief, drug dealer or any regular suspect we’re dealing with. This is a civilian with a credible lead on the First Lady. We’re going to have to handle her with care.”

“You’re right. How about if you lead the questioning? I’ll make sure everything’s written down,” Byrne suggested.

“Fine by me,” Sinclair replied.

Ever since the news of The First Lady’s disappearance had become first national and then international news, special teams from all over the country had been tracking down tips. So far Mrs. Griffin had been seen lounging on a beach in Hawai, on a bus in Italy or drinking beer at a local bar in Texas. Not all of the tips had been a total bust. One from a supermarket in Vincennes, Indiana, had caught their attention, hence the reason why they were currently sitting on a plastic couch. In her mail, Miss Hudson had stated seeing a woman who looked very similar to the First Lady at the local supermarket where she worked as a cashier. She had been traveling with a guy and two children – a little girl and a teenage boy. The man had also referred to the woman as ‘Gail’.

This all was simply too much of a coincidence for them to not check it out. Especially since the description of the children resembled those from the look-alike contest.

Sinclair wouldn’t be surprised if Stacy O’Neil would turn out to be Gail.

Or Abigail Walters Griffin.

The woman came back from the kitchen carrying a plate with three glasses and a mason jar of lemonade.

“Do you mind if we sat down?” Sinclair politely suggested and Miss Hudson blushed.

“Of course not. I’m sorry if I come across a little bit nervous. It’s just I’ve never had a policeman, nevermind the FBI or CIA in my house before.”

Sinclair tried to give her a reassuring smile, “That’s quite alright Miss Hudson. We simply want to ask some questions about your tip on the First Lady. Why don’t you tell us what you saw in your own words? If anything’s still unclear to us afterward we can always some questions.”

“Alright,” Miss Hudson replied before clearing her throat, “As you two probably know I work as a cashier at the local supermarket in the Vincennes local supermarket. Two days ago I was in the final hour of my shift when a family of four were standing in line. The reason why I remember them is because the woman looked a lot like the First Lady. And I know what you guys might think, a lot of people look kind of like the First Lady but I remember the woman’s haircut and blouse from a lookalike contest a day or so earlier.”

“I apologise for interrupting you, but how did you know about the contest? It was a local event,” Sinclair asked.

Miss Hudson blushed before averting her gaze. “Ah, well you see, I’m quite the fan of the First Lady and I put an alert on my phone to message me whenever a picture, video, post or article with the First Lady’s name mentioned is posted.”

“I see,” Sinclair replied and Byrne made a note of that without saying anything, “Please continue.”

“When I first got the notice of the contest I couldn’t help but notice how similar the woman looked like The First Lady. Sure her hair was different and she wasn’t wearing some designer outfit, but the height and body type was still the same.”

“Except the fact that the woman from the contest was Hispanic,” Byrne mentioned and Miss Hudson nodded at her.

“Yeah, that’s what I found strange because the woman waiting in line spoke English and I didn’t hear an accent of any kind.”

Sinclair and Byrne exchanged a look. They were onto something. They could feel it. The coincidences were simply too much.

“Also the man she was with kept referring to her as Gail which I found interesting because you could use Gail as a nickname for Abigail.”

Oh yes, they were definitely onto something.

“Is there anything else you’d like to add?” Sinclair prompted, hoping that there would be more Miss Hudson could tell them.

“Well, I do believe that they were on their way to Iowa. The woman kept blushing whenever the man brought that up,” Miss Hudson said, “Oh, and they were driving an old motorhome.”

“You wouldn’t by any chance have managed to write down the number plate?” Sinclair couldn’t help but ask and to his luck, the woman nods her head.

“Actually, I did. Give me a minute,” Miss Hudson replied before getting up from the couch and walking towards a cabinet where she took out a small note pad.

The agents couldn’t believe their luck. Things were starting to look up. Perhaps they would be able to return the First Lady to the White House much earlier than anticipated.

* * *

Davenport, Iowa was a big enough city. It had universities, elementary and secondary schools, multiple supermarkets, stores, churches and everything else Bellamy and Octavia might want or need.

It was the perfect place to raise children.

Both Abby and Marcus were in agreement on that. And yet they couldn’t help but wonder if the kids wouldn’t be happier if they stayed with them. Not that either of the adults would ever voice that thought out loud.

“This is going to be a good thing for them,” Marcus uttered, and Abby gave him a small nod, not trusting her voice. It almost felt ridiculous how strongly she was feeling about leaving Octavia and Bellamy behind. Four days ago, she didn’t even know that they existed and now…

Now she cared for them. Which was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing since now she knew how it felt to take care of children, but also a curse because she was going to lose them. Not wanting to start crying in front of Marcus, she clenched her fists and aimlessly stared outside of the front window.

She watched how Marcus briefly stopped at a small shop to ask for directions but driving off again. Apparently, Eva’s house was more on the outskirts of the town but still close enough to stores, schools and other important things.

After perhaps a fifteen minute ride they arrived at a house with a huge garden with lots of trees. Marcus could already imagine an older Octavia running along in the garden or perhaps riding a bike, Bellamy never straying too far from his sister. The thought of all of that happening without him being there to see it made his heart clench. Somehow those two kids had wormed their way into his life, into his heart and now he was going to leave them and it was going to hurt. Which was not what he had expected. Or even wanted.

But this was for the best. At least that’s what he kept repeating to himself. Eva would be able to take better care of them than he ever could.

As he pulled up into the driveway, he took a deep breath.

“Alright. Let’s do this,” he muttered softly to Abby was still sitting next to him. Just as she was about to agree she noticed that Octavia’s onesie was covered in small chocolate stains. “Perhaps best if I quickly out some clean clothes on her. This might be the first time she has ever seen either of her grandchildren in the flesh.”

Marcus gave her a nod of approval, “You have a point there. While you change Octavia’s clothes and I’ll go and check on Bellamy, ask him if he perhaps wants to put on some fresh clothes as well.

“Okay,” Abby said, her focus already entirely on the girl in front of her. Octavia was giving her a big smile, the one she usually reserved for her brother and it made tears well up in her eyes.

“It’s too late for that sweet girl,” Abby shakily replied, “You’re home now.”

Just as she moved towards Octavia’s bag with clothes, Marcus appeared with the pillow she had used to fake her pregnancy. She’d almost forgotten about it.

“I thought it might be best if you put this back on? Especially since your face is currently on every news channel?” He suggested and even though she didn’t want to put it back on, she knew it was best to play it safe.

“I will, thank you,” she replied and Marcus merely gave her a nod before moving towards the bedroom where Bellamy had retreated to over an hour ago.

He gently knocked on the door. “Bellamy, we’ve arrived at your grandmother’s house. Is it okay if I come in?”

When no reply came, Marcus deemed it safe to enter. The boy was lying on the bed while listening to some music and reading another one the books he had gotten.

“Hey, we’re here. Do  you wanna change or?”

Bellamy shook his head, “Nah. I’m good.”

After redressing Octavia Abby couldn’t stop herself from wandering over to the bedroom, the little girl bouncing in her arms, and trying to eavesdrop onto the conversation.

“...... so the reason why Gail’s pretending to be pregnant again is because she found out that her ex has hired a detective and she doesn’t want to be found. Okay?”

“Sure. So if anyone asks I’ll just say that she’s your wife,” came Bellamy’s reply.

“Exactly.”

“So I’m guessing that you’re pretty relieved that you’re almost rid of me and my sister,” the boy pointed out.

 _Ouch_ \- Abby thought.

Marcus stayed quiet for a second and Abby didn’t think he was going to reply, but then she heard some shuffling - presumably Marcus sitting down on the bed - before he started talking but the boy was quick to cut him off.

“Bellamy listen -”

“No, it’s fine Kane. There’s no need to be polite or say stuff you don’t mean.”

Marcus laughed, “Do I look like the type of person who says things he doesn’t mean?”

Abby could hear the weak chuckle Bellamy let out.

‘I’m not going to drop you and Octavia off at the door and simply _leave_.  Gail and I will come in and talk to your grandmother. Besides I still need to stick around for the blood test. I still need to prove that I’m not your or Octavia’s father.”

“But in the end, you will leave.”

Abby’s heart ached at the sliver of hurt she detected in the boy’s voice.

“Yes, I will leave but if you want we can keep in touch?”

She can tell that Marcus is speaking the truth, but when she hears Bellamy scoff, she knows that Marcus isn’t believed.

“Sure and I’m sure that you’ll call once or perhaps even twice, but in the end you’ll stop making an effort and disappear,” Bellamy shouted and when Abby heard him moving towards the door, she swiftly moved backward until she was sitting on the couch with Octavia still wrapped in her arms.

The boy stormed out off the room before letting himself drop next to her, a dejected sigh escaping his lips and Abby wished she could make it all better but she had no idea how to do so.

Back in the room, Marcus was still sitting on the bed, staring at the open door with his hands lying in his lap. He felt guilty for making Bellamy feel like this, but what did he expect? That Marcus was going to adopt him and his sister? His life wasn’t child appropriate. He had nothing to offer to either of them.

He was a single man, a freelancer who had lost all of his credibility as a respectable journalist and he knew he could be difficult and stubborn. He wouldn’t be able to provide for the kids in the way they both deserved.

Minutes later they were all making their way towards the front door of Eva’s house. Marcus was up front, Abby was carrying Octavia and Bellamy was following in the back, looking pale and fidgety.

When Marcus rang the doorbell once, twice – there wasn’t an answer.

He frowned before turning towards the others. “I’ll go and check the back. Perhaps she’s out in the garden and doesn’t hear the doorbell,” he announced before walking the corner of the house.

Abby gave him a quick nod, but she couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong.

“You sure that everything was alright?” She softly asked Bellamy and the boy gave her an absolutely petrified look – his eyes were wide and she could _feel_ the anxiety rolling off him.

“I’m so sorry. You’re going to hate me. And so is Marcus,” he whispered, tears swimming in his eyes.

Her eyes widened, “What? Bellamy why? Why would we ever hate you?”

 “I messed up, I’m so sorry. I just really didn’t want to end up with Child & Youth services or risk being separated from my sister.”

Abby could feel heart accelerating. “What did you do?”

Before the boy could answer Marcus came back with a small smile plastered on his face. “There’s music blasting so she probably didn’t hear me ringing the bell. I’m just gonna try again.”

He failed to pick up on the tense atmosphere and before Abby could say anything the front door swung open and a young man - in his late twenties early thirties? – stood on the other side. He was wearing a pair of skinny jeans, a T-shirt and he looked as if he had just crawled out of bed.

“Yeah?”

Both Marcus and Abby didn’t know how to respond to the question since this was most definitely _not_ the person they had expected to open the door.

When neither adult opened their mouths Bellamy shuffled on his feet before taking a step forward.

“Hi granddad,” the boy muttered, his gaze averted to the ground.

“Granddad?” The three adults all exclaimed, the shock evident in both their voice and faces.

_Well, shit._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and/or kudos are much appreciated


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